


Time Again

by anaellefire



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: And the thought of this breaks my heart, Because we obviously need more Tasertricks feels, F/M, Time Travel AU, Tumblr Prompt, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaellefire/pseuds/anaellefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis was always something more than human to Loki. A time traveler, a kindred spirit, a friend, a lover, a savior. The first time he encounters this woman who will become so important to him, he loses her. Now that he knows her fate, will he use everything in his power to change the course of her future, or will he have the strength to let her go forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salut

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fill: Uruvielnumenesse on Tumblr: Time travel AU: Where Darcy Lewis is a time traveler who meets her love in a different order than the norm. Her last visit to him is his first meeting of her.
> 
> AN: I've had this wonderful idea for a fic bubbling around in my head for weeks, just waiting to pop onto paper, but I wasn't sure how to start it. So thanks to Uruvielnumenesse on tumblr for the idea!  
> This little gem wasn't beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

_Salut_

_A French word used for both "hello" and "goodbye"_

* * *

He lounged on his bed, absent mindedly tossing a glass orb in his hand, light catching the soft white of the glass and projecting prisms around his room. The gift was a small sorcerer's orb his mother had given him as a boy. It had come from Vanaheim, as a tribute to the old ways of sorcery and encourage Loki's practice in magic. His mother had enchanted it with a simple scrying spell, and as boy, he learned early on the consequences of being able to see the future, and the futility of trying to change it.

Up. Down. Up and down. The repetitive motion was calming, like pacing. His emerald eyes were open, filled with knowledge and mirth, but his gaze was faraway, focusing on spells he'd memorized earlier; the incantations ghosting across his lips. His goal was to cast a spell without a single utterance of a syllable, and practice makes perfect.

A trail of magic vibrated into the room. He stilled his hand, squinted his eyes and set his jaw trying to identify the user's signature. Curious. He'd never before encountered such magic, and so he moved to sit at the edge of his bed, waiting with intrigue for the spell to unfold.

In the blink of an eye, a woman appeared in the center of his chambers. She was hunched over her knees, on the floor, covered in snow, and dressed in an ill fitting military uniform of some sort. Her breaths were shallow, rapid and labored, and melting snow slopped off her frame with each respiratory effort. As he slowly approached her, he could hear quiet sobs mixed with what appeared to be shallow laughter.

"Excuse me, dear lady," he began, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as he crouched next to her, the scrying orb forgotten next to him.

"Loki?" she asked blindly, exhaustion and relief evident in her saccharine voice. "Please, just stay with me?" She let out a long exhale and turned her face to him. They both gasped and slightly moved away from each other; maybe they startled each other, maybe to get a better look at one another; he couldn't be certain.

She was blue. Jotun blue. The creature before him was rather small for a Frost Giant, he noted. But her eyes. They were not the red color of the frozen monsters... they were a brilliant blue. Almost like his mother's. And her face, her beautiful face—so full of youth... and dwindling vitality—was framed by dark ridges raised from her skin. In his appraisal and his curiosity, his gaze locked on an ancient, alien, dagger embedded deep within her abdomen. The dark, crimson blood seeping through her jacket perplexed him further. She bore characteristics of a Jotun, but her eyes, the blood, her size... He reached for the blade.

"Don't touch it!" she cried. He looked into her eyes, jerking his hands back and holding them up in surrender to her command. "If you touch it, you'll lose your magic; and if you try to heal me, it will only kill me faster."

"What are you?" Loki demanded.

"Dying." She said, rather smartly. Still, his eyes widened at her statement.

"You are mortal." It was more of a bewildered statement, than a question. Her eyes were beginning to close, but he had yet to receive the answers he wanted. Why was she in Asgard, in his private quarters, of all places? How did she get past his wards? Who was she? How did she know him? He wasn't going to let her go so easily. "You called me by my given name, not my title—I am a prince of Asgard! How do you know me? How are you here, in my chambers?" He gently shook her shoulders to keep her from drifting into an eternal sleep. He had never before met a mortal, much less one so close to expiration. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement and a slow smile graced her face. Boldly, she reached a hand up to his cheek.

"You're so young," she began. When her delicate skin made contact with his, the ridges faded, and her complexion shifted to a creamy white. If he thought she was beautiful before, she was absolutely divine in this form.

"Are you some kind of shape shifter?" he slowly took her hand in his and gathered her head in his lap, careful not to pull her rich brown hair with his ministrations. With so much physical contact between them, he felt a familiar hum. "You are radiating my magic." She was fixated on studying his every feature. "I beg you, tell me who you are."

A shadow of sadness swept over her visage and her eyes sparkled with tears threatening to spill over her long lashes. He could feel his magic slowly draining from her, like the dagger was siphoning it away.

"I've never seen you so young before." Her voice was dripping with humor and, simultaneously, an ache of sorrow.

"Please, at least tell me your name?" His green eyes searched hers with fervor, trying to decipher the knowledge they held. His request was desperate, his magic had almost entirely faded from her. He watched black lines spider their way across her porcelain skin. She gripped his hand tightly and twisted her other in the soft fabric of his tunic. Her muscles contracted and she cried out at the pain.

"If you will not tell me who you are, then let me help you. There must be something-"

"-I saved your life." She said through clenched teeth, sweat dotted her brow as she struggled to fight the pain. Her muscles relaxed and she took a few deep breaths.

"How can that be possible? I have never seen you before in all my 1,000 years." She gave him a hard look when he mentioned his age, and she pursed her lips.

"Usually when someone mentions that they saved someone's life, there's a call for gratitude. You should be thanking me, oh Prince of Asgard." There was a fire in her eyes, but then her gaze left him; to travel to some other place and time. "You told me this was going to happen." She looked into his eyes then. "You said that I was going to die in your arms." She choked a little on that statement.

"My lady-" he began

"Darcy."

"Lady Darcy,"

"No. Just 'Darcy'. You've never pulled that formal B.S. with me and I sure as hell don't want you to start now... at the end." She interjected.

"How do I know you? If you are dying, how will I ever see you again to know the answers?"

She was silent for a moment, chewing her bottom lip and gripping him tighter as she chose her words. "I am a time traveler." Loki began to open his mouth, but she gave him a pointed look and continued. "All questions will be held until the end of the lecture," she said crossly, drawing her eyebrows into a harsh line. "Someday, Loki, you will see me again. I can't tell you when, or where, but whatever you do, don't go looking for me. It's against the time traveler companion's code of ethics. You'll just fuck everything up if you do that." He nodded, completely fixated on what she was saying.

"I can't tell you why I travel, we haven't figured it out yet, but the first time it happened I was 10. I can sort of control it now, and it's something we've been working on, but I mostly try to live in the moment, and go when Time pulls me to a place where I'm supposed to be." Her skin turned a sickly, ashen color and he could see her strength draining. She swallowed hard before continuing.

"This dagger was meant for you. It carries a special poison to drain you first of your magic and your immortality, leaving you vulnerable and mortal. He was going to kill you." Her eyes were distant at the memory.

"Whom? Tell me more, please?"

Darcy weakly shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's almost Time."

"Stay just a moment longer? I beg you. Fight it." He took her hand in his again, trying to hold her with him, to keep her for a moment longer. With the rest of her strength, she put her palm against the contours of his jaw one last time.

"Promise me you won't give up hope?" He hadn't the slightest idea to what she was referring, but he nodded against her hand, bringing his to hers to give her strength. "And Loki?" She cleared her throat to fight back emotion.

"Yes, Darcy?" His voice was barely a whisper, her name rolling so eloquently from his tongue. He did not yet want to say goodbye to this strange woman, the enigma of their relationship, and the intimacy of her touch.

"Remember how much I love you." Her smile was weak, but its radiance did not go unnoticed. "I have always been yours." His heart stopped at her confession. He opened his mouth to say something to her, he never was entirely sure what, but before he could untangle his silver tongue, she simply faded away, like she had never existed; and he was left a confused wreck, kneeling on the floor of his room, trying to accept that some stranger who professed their love for him, just died in his arms. He was left alone, feeling hollowed out, and wondering how long it would be before he saw her again—how long they would have together—for she, too, looked so very young. A tear splashed against the stone flooring and mixed with the puddle left from the snow that had melted off her. He did not breathe in until his lungs burned from his stillness.

The only thing left between them now was Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspiration and recommended listening: The Last Man-- The Fountain Soundtrack


	2. Komorebi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's last moments alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I forgot that I wanted to give you guys this part before I called it quits for the night. I was originally going to have it at the end of the first chapter, but I really like the idea of using untranslatable words as chapter titles, and Komorebi was a perfect title for this short scene.
> 
> It won't be often that we see things from Darcy's POV, but this is a very important moment for her, and this scene is absolutely crucial to the development of the rest of their story. So, bonus for you readers!

  
_Komorebi_

_A Japanese word for the sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees._

* * *

 

The sky was overcast, and its gray hue, fighting what was left of September sunshine, seemed to wash out the already neutral tones of the grass in the late summer plain. Five years after she disappeared, Darcy Lewis returned to the clearing in a field outside of her childhood home in upstate Vermont. She would frequently come here to sit under this very willow tree to have picnics and read books, escaping from her brothers.

A strong breeze blew over the plain, making the tendrils of the tree above wave over her in a soothing rhythm, like a natural mobile sent to soothe her nerves and distract her mind. She could vaguely feel the soft caress of the blades of grass against her skin as well. Strands of her hair blew over her face, getting stuck in her eyelashes and the chapped skin of her lips. But she didn't care, didn't have the energy to brush them away. Let the elements cradle her in her last moments.

Her eyes stayed open, unblinking, her vision spotting with the rays of sun breaking through the foliage and peppering her with warmth. As she lay there, comforted by nostalgia, she had one last significant thought. If she was going to die, this was as good of a place as any. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she felt like she smiled, although she couldn't be sure if her lips actually curled in response to her emotions. The noise of the approaching storm was like a soothing lullaby, sang by a parent to their children as they went to bed. And the rain drops that fell against her skin almost seemed like a thousand kisses, giving her one last sense of butterflies in her stomach before she started to drift away.

Dying was much like falling asleep. She could feel her body start to relax, muscles she never thought she had. She concentrated on the sensation of each body part as the feeling slipped away, much like meditation. She focused on her big toe on her left foot, and the back of her right knee. The ease of tension from the blade in her abdomen. She felt the depression of her spine in the grass, and her hands relax into a neutral, open position; a glass orb rolling away from her grip. There was a lightness in her chest, and she took one last, shallow breath, not becoming alarmed in the slightest when she was unsuccessful. She was contently drifting to sleep.

The last thing Darcy Lewis saw was a flash of light.

She was gone just as the rain came down in torrents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Inspiration and recommended listening: Slipknot- Vermillion Part 2  
> The music video is really beautiful and I was hoping to have caught some of that and translated it to Darcy.


	3. Natsukashii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Loki share a birthday celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: Primavera-- Ludovico Einaudi

_Natsukashii_

_(Japanese word) for suddenly, euphorically, triggered by experiencing something for the first time in years_

* * *

 

It was a day of celebration, with a banquet and a ball, full of merriment and grandeur. He never understood why his mother insisted on such lavish functions over such a trivial matter as a birthday, but he obliged her any way. With all the invitees, he almost wondered if she had secretly begun to try and find him a suitable woman with whom to settle down. This year, his she had insisted upon a masquerade to follow the feast; which, he had to admit, was to his liking. It was so much easier to be mischievous in relative anonymity.

The exquisite meal passed as they always did: Volstagg recounting tales of his valor against sheer promise of death in the face of the enemy; Fandral was dripping with women fawning over him like succubi with beauty rivaled only by their vapidity; Thor wasn't much different, women surrounded him singing their siren songs, vying for his attention in hopes of being the next Queen of Asgard. It was pitiful.

He hadn't truly planned on partaking in the recreations, just being visible enough at the party to have his presence be known, and then, when his presence was forgotten, he hoped to return to his quarters and continue his studies. His focus, as of late, was delving deep into the theory of time travel. It had been over a thousand years, but he never forgot the gorgeous creature named Darcy, or her tragic circumstance when she appeared before him all those years ago.

He stood in a secluded corner of the great hall, watching the people dancing, and listening in on the conversations that various guests were having with him; he had cast many doubles throughout the crowd, giving his guests the idea that he cared about their presences and actively listening to their trivial conversations. Sipping the last of his mead, he set the chalice on a nearby table and turned to take his leave, but the beautiful sight of his mother stilled his path, she had come dressed in an elegant mask of a golden, pale-faced owl, infinite in her wisdom and unparallelled in her foresight. She had that gleam in her eye he had come to recognize as her own expression of mischief. Either she was up to something, or she knew something.

“Loki,” She said in her comforting voice.

“Mother,” he slightly bowed his head and swept his arm to the side for her to join him.

“Are you not enjoying yourself, darling?”

“As much as I love a good celebration, I am afraid that all the attention I've received this eve has rather worn me out. I've sent out hundreds of specters just to keep all the admirers at bay, lest they find the real me.” He gave a soft chuckle.

“And while you simply satisfy your friends' desires to celebrate your birth with a simple slight of magic, you could leave to do what you please, but you have stayed this late.” Loki chuckled and adjusted his mask, the black feathers of the raven blending perfectly with his own dark hair.

Something swept through the room; a breeze, or a vibration, or... Magic. Every Loki in the room stopped what he was doing to turn their heads towards the source. Did one of them catch sight of a woman with long brown hair? He wasn't sure. He had them all excuse themselves from their conversations and walk away to disappear inconspicuously. He felt whole again as they converged, and he realized that his mother was still talking to him, her eyes sparkling brighter than they were before.

“Loki, would you be so kind as to please your withering old mother with a dance?”

“Oh, Mother, I was simply waiting for the right girl to come along and ask. It does something to one's ego when her body is moving with mine, and yet her eyes are constantly searching for my brother.” He tucked her arm in his and lead her to the crowd of people moving to the rhythm, his eyes piercing the celebrants, looking for the source of the magic in the room.

He and his mother turned and swayed around the floor to the waltz. She was reminiscing on all the mischief he caused as a young boy, and was reveling at how handsome of a man he'd grown to be. After all, it wasn't every day someone reached their 2,500th birthday. They moved gracefully throughout the room.

“You complain that you cannot find a partner who will give their undivided attention, and yet I feel like you are looking for someone else, yourself. What is it? Are you now embarrassed to dance with your mother in your new age?” she teased. Loki opened his mouth to say something, before closing it and apologizing, eliciting a laugh from his mother.

Just before they came to the part of the dance where they were to switch partners, Frigga smiled greatly at him, “Happy birthday, my son.”

They twirled apart and his back was now to his new partner. The first thing he noticed was the floral notes of her perfume, a scent not native to Asgard, but nonetheless enticing. His partner walked towards him, then, the click of her heels on the stone floor as she approached him made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A slender hand reached out and brushed across his shoulder blades before sliding down his arm. Her nails were dark green, a fashion not in the slightest Asgardian; the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

He turned and faced her then, his smirk quickly growing into a grin, which he desperately tried to hide as he bowed and held his hand out to her. “Darcy?” The only answer he received was an upwards tilt of her chin, a quirk of her deep red stained lips, and a brow raised above the gold lace of her mask. Gods, he could hardly speak once he drank in the sight of her. The leather of her dress, accented by gilded laurels, clinging to her every curve... When he'd last seen her, she was encumbered in someone else's garments. This dress, however, was made for her, a second skin. Something so to his liking, he wondered if he had created it himself.

She pressed close to him as they danced. It was horribly distracting to say the least, not to mention the sultry eyes she was making at him from behind her mask were about to set him aflame. “And how many years of lies and chaos are we celebrating this year, Loki?” She smiled when he stammered over his new age. While he was concentrating on not making a fool of himself in the presence of this beautiful woman, he almost failed to recognize the approach of the partner exchange. Quickly, he made his move.

“Would you mind accompanying me to somewhere a little more private?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

Her back hit a large bookshelf as he teleported them to the library. “Forgive me, you are probably unfamiliar with--,” He began to apologize, but she simply chuckled and ran her hands through the lapel of his tunic.

“It's okay. I'm actually pretty used to it.” There was mischief in her voice.

He remained still, pressed against her, and inhaled her scent at her neck. He wanted to stay there forever with her, but she cleared her throat.

“Geeze, I've hardly been here twenty minutes, and you're already getting fresh with me against the stacks.”

“Apologies.” He gave a boyish smile and stepped away, placing his hands behind his back and beginning to slowly pace about the room.

He watched the delicacy of her wrist as she thumbed over the tomes on the shelves around her. “I'm surprised you didn't just teleport us straight to your room when I first showed up.” She flashed him a devil's grin. “How long has it been?” she asked, still examining the shelves.

“Since... since I saw you last?” His voice seemed to hollow out at the memory. She turned her head to nod for him to continue. “Approximately 1500 years.”

“Woah.” She turned to face him. “We've never had such a long break before.” She sucked in her bottom lip and began to chew on it; the plump, stained skin of her lip between her teeth doing something to his insides. She flashed a grin when she saw his fixation. “How many times have I come to visit you?” There was a playfulness to her tone, but he sat down on a chaise longue, removed his mask and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He rested his elbows on his knees and turned the mask over and over in his hands. The cushion of the chair dented as she gracefully sat next to him.

“Just once.” He paused for a moment, wondering if she would have any reaction to his next statement. “You died.”

“What?” Darcy asked in a whisper. Loki wasn't sure how to answer her, so he kept turning the mask over and over in his hands, trying to find features of it he may have missed before; the number of feathers around the eyes, the hardness of the beak.... She took the mask from his hands and set it next to her, and clasped her hands around his. “What happened?... How old was I?”

“You wouldn't tell me anything.” He brushed a strand of long hair behind her ears. “You appeared in my quarters, and had been stabbed in the abdomen with an enchanted knife.” Loki very gently removed the mask from her face, revealing her cerulean eyes, staring widely into his. “A knife specifically meant to kill me.” Her eyes seemed far away, as if she was searching for a memory that had yet come to pass. “You told me you saved my life.” He quickly kissed her then, his lips perfectly melding to hers in his haste. Gods, she felt like home. It was a fleeting moment of paradise. “You weren't much older than you appear to be now. And you demanded that I thank you, but I don't know how.” Her eyes were glossy, like she was on the verge of tears. “I don't know who you are to me—I don't know what you are.” She looked at him then, and dabbed at the rims of her eyes with ringed fingers. “Are we wed?” He asked. “You have given me cause to think that we are intimate at least; and, you radiate my magic...”

“You're my king,” she interjected.

His eyebrows drew together and his mouth was a agape. “And are you... my queen?”

Her reply was a searing kiss.

“I must be truly blessed by the Gods to have such a gorgeous creature by my side.” Her laughter chased away her tears, and pierced straight to his heart. She nimbly climbed into his lap, cradled his face in her hands, and began to kiss him senseless. He placed his hands on the backs of her thighs and pulled her against him, relishing the feel of her body on his. He sighed into her mouth and she took it as an invitation to taste his tongue on hers, beginning an intricate dance between them.

A sense of urgency washed over them then; he trailed his mouth away from hers, and nibbled down her neck. “I don't have much time.” She murmured into his ear.

“Don't go, stay here, with me.” He began suckling on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“As much as I would love to...” she groaned. She pulled his head back to look into his eyes. “I promise that the rest of your birthdays we spend together are much more satisfying than this one.” With that, she disappeared, leaving her mask the only indication that she was there.

* * *

Darcy thew open the bathroom door and headed straight for Loki, who was standing in the kitchen. “I was beginning to wonder,” he started to say, but then his eyes froze on her, darkening with hunger. “I remember that dress.” He absent mindedly conjured a golden mask as she sashayed towards him with a purpose.

“I don't want to go to the party anymore.” She pulled the mask from his hand and kissed him harshly on the lips. Loki wrapped his arms around her and teleported them into their bedroom.

They were snuggled under the satin sheets, basking in the afterglow, when the clock struck midnight. Cries of “Happy New Year” rang throughout the streets and joyous ruckus reverberated against the buildings from the party upstairs. Their room burst with light as fireworks exploded in the distance.

It was now 2018. She couldn't help but wonder how much time they had left together.  Years?  Months?  Weeks?  Days?  She couldn't be sure.

“Happy Birthday, Darcy.”  His soothing voice pierced the dark silence.  She held him closer and kissed his chest. For right now, she would just have to live as much as she could in whatever amount of time she had left.

 


	4. La Douleur Exquise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following our favorite pairing as they face the challenges presented to them by Thor the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy update, Batman! This is by far one of my longest chapters ever!  
> I wanted to use my headcanons from various scenes from the movie to develop their relationship.
> 
> I know it's not canon for Loki to be over 3,000 years old, so I am taking creative license with his age to serve my own purposes. Plus, it makes the pining that much more angsty!
> 
> A lot of people have commented that this story closely mimics that of The Doctor and River Song. And while I have Dr. Who on my to-watch list, I have never actually seen any of it, so I'm sorry if it comes across that way, but it was not my intention at all! 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos/subscriptions and comments!! It means a lot!
> 
> Recommended Listening: Lacrymosa- Mozart

_La Douleur Exquise_

_A French expression, literally “the exquisite pain”, describing the heartache of wanting someone you can’t have._

* * *

 

                Loki’s image shimmered away with the swirling snow from the storm on Jotunheim.  The coup was confirmed, everything was in order.  He gave an involuntary shiver as he opened his eyes, the features of his private chambers filling his view as he sat on the floor.  It’s not that he was jealous of Thor—his coronation was only days away—but Thor wasn’t ready for the responsibility, and Loki had it on a good source that he was going to be king.  After his last discussion with Darcy, 750 years ago, he deduced that he simply needed to take measures into his own hands to secure their future.  Patience was a golden virtue, but Loki certainly didn’t identify himself as virtuous.

***

                Thor’s reaction against the Jotuns and subsequent banishment had gone not _quite_ as planned, but worked perfectly to his advantage…  However, the information gleaned from their battle was something Loki was not expecting.  Not in the slightest.  He was… a Jotun?  His world was turned upside down.  Everything seemed…tainted.

                Loki remembered his first moments with Darcy.  Was that why she appeared as a Jotun before him?  Pity for the monster she loved, so he wouldn’t feel so alone?  All the energy he had pent up inside of him… He could feel his magic surging violently within him.  The hard steps he took as he paced around his room just weren’t cutting it for him.  How could she love a monster?  How could she ever love him?

                He found himself in the weapons vault, curious and desperate to see himself the way she obviously saw him.  Loki could feel the power course through him, altering him physically, as he picked up the Casket of Ancient Winters.  His skin faded to a deep blue, and ridges rose along his body similar to the ones he’d seen on Darcy.  His heart was breaking.  But his eyes… How could she look at him with love and devotion when he looked like this?  His pulse was racing, and there was an acrid taste in his mouth.  Oh Gods, he was going to be ill.

***

                Loki didn’t mean to force Odin into his Odinsleep, but he was hurting, and his emotions were rolling a violent sea within him.  But when the Einharjar presented Gungnir to him on bent knee…   Was this the beginning?  If so, how much time would pass before he was introduced to his queen, allowing their relationship to become more linear than the previous to visits?  He was excited at the prospect as he reached out for the staff.

                But once the metal touched his skin, and he felt the power held within…  Everything felt to be exactly in place… Everything felt right.  It’s strength seared into his bloodstream, coursing through his veins.  It was so potent… like nothing he’d ever felt before—exhilarating beyond his wildest imagination.  He was now the most powerful being in all the nine realms… and for the first time in over millennia, the promise of encountering a certain time traveler was easily forgotten.

                Nothing mattered but the weight of the gold in his hands; the power surging through his body.

***

                He pulled at the handle of his brother’s weapon, embedded deep in the ground, not surprised in the slightest when his efforts were fruitless.  Of course.  Odin would never deem a Frost Giant worthy of the power of Mjölnir.  He curled his upper lip and turned away, clenching his jaw in frustration.  Loki left the center of the compound, wandering the narrow pathways, disgusted at the primitive creatures around him.

                Over the chatter of the insignificant Midgardians and their laughable attempt at deciphering the hammer and the man captive within their quarters, he heard a name, _Darcy Lewis_.  Unmistakable.  Could it be her?  His features softened and he headed straight for the source; the bottom of his long, black trench coat swaying to his steps, marked with purpose.

                “What’s a Poly-Sci major doing working with an astrophysicist?” one man questioned another.

                He peered over the shoulders of the two men at the machines long enough to get an address for somewhere in the small town nearby.

                Loki was nervous and slightly conflicted as he made his way towards the town.  If this person did turn out to be his Darcy…?  He had to admit he would be disappointed at her being human… Yes.  He knew she was some sort of mortal, but he never would have expected her to be _that_ mortal.  Humans were a blink of an eye to one such as him.  And they were so fragile.  His hands curled into fists in his pockets.  She was going to die young.  So very young.  And there was nothing he could do about it, but watch.  And then what?  Would he remain solitary for the rest of his life?  Never to take another?  He paused a moment to stare at the night sky, searching for answers and asking for comfort.  But the view was so very different than the one he was used to.

                “It’s just my luck… to travel myself stranded out in the desert.”  A disgruntled voice carried over the cool night air, and Loki snapped his head towards the sound.  A small figure was traversing the barren land not far from where he was.  She was walking hastily; kicking rocks here and there in anger and muttering curses under her breath.

                It didn’t take much for him to catch up to her, his long legs quickly overtook the frustrated pace she had set in her small stature.  “Darcy?” he called out.

                Startled, she whirled around, pulling some sort of weapon from her pocket and holding it level with his chest.  “Stop right there, buddy.  Hands up where I can see them, or I’m going to fill your ass with 50,000 volts of electricity; and don’t think I’m bluffing because I already took down the God of Thunder this week.”

                _Gods, finally_.  It was her.  Under some sort of cap and a mass of curls, there she was.  So young.  His hands rose in surrender, and a smile swept across his face.  My, my, she was feisty.  A woman who didn’t have any fight in her truly wasn’t his taste.  “I assure you, I mean you no harm.”

                “Who are you?  How do you know my name?  And what the _fuck_ are you doing following me around in the middle of the New Mexican desert at one in the morning?”  She was nothing, if not authoritative in her commands.

                “I am Loki, of Asgard,” he began, lowering his hands to his sides.

                “Another one?” she whined.

                “I believe you mentioned that you’ve already met my brother, Thor?”

                She furrowed her brows and nodded.  “And you know me because…?”

                “Ah, yes.  I know you because I have met you before.”

                “I’m pretty sure that we haven’t met.  You’re not exactly someone who seems…forgettable.”  She licked her lips and looked him up and down in the pale moonlight.

                “You first came to me over a millennium ago, and you explained that we would eventually meet, but not when.”

                “So, you know me because I travel?”

                “Yes.”

                “Huh,” she said, lowering her weapon.  “Want to come back to my place and you can tell me all about… well me?”

***

                The hike to town only took about fifteen minutes, and Darcy kept them company; asking simple question about his life.  How old was he, anyway?  What were his godly duties?  And was he here to take Thor back to Asgard?  He answered her inquiries with as much honesty as he could muster.  He was 3,250; the God of Choas, Mischief and Lies; and no, he was not on Earth to take Thor back to Asgard, merely to relay a message.

                She led them towards a small establishment, “Isabelle’s Diner” was written in some sort of illuminated writing through the windows.  She walked to the side of the building, next to something called a “Laundromat” and unlocked a door leading to a flight of stairs.  Darcy unlocked the door at the top landing, as well.

                Her apartment took him by surprise.  It was a humble abode, and quaint in its Midgardian furnishings.  Bookshelf after bookshelf lined the walls, each filled past capacity with literature of various titles.  Loki was impressed, to say the least; and the evidence of her extensive reading habits reminded him of his own chambers.  Darcy disrobed from her jacket and removed her cap, hanging them on hooks near the door.  His eyes couldn’t help but drink in the sight of her soft cotton top, clinging to her every curve, and yet being modest in its cut.  “I’m going to start some tea.”  Loki gave a small cough and his eyes snapped to hers.  “Make yourself at home,” she called and headed towards what must have been the apartment’s kitchen, a lamp flicked on in her wake, leaving a soft glow to the room.  Loki headed over to inspect her reading materials.  He was looking at a large tome concerning a theory of space and time—a concept well known to him, but one of which Midgardians had yet to fully grasp—when she returned.

                She was carrying two mugs in her hands, the aroma steaming from them carrying floral notes he could not identify.  When she went to hand him one, he spoke.  “Thank you, but I must politely decline, for I am not entirely here.”  Darcy gave him a skeptical look, but nodded and sat down on an old wooden rocking chair, legs folding underneath her, cradling the warm beverage in her hands while leaving the other mug on the coffee table.  Loki positioned his specter in the chair opposite from her.  “I am merely projecting a specter of myself here on Midgard.  My corporeal form is attending to matters on Asgard.”

                “So you can duplicate yourself?”

                “To an extent, yes.”  A thought passed behind her eyes, but he couldn’t decipher what she was thinking.  Darcy raised the mug to her lips and took a long drink.

                “So, how did we meet?”

                Loki had been expecting this question, but he didn’t want to tell her the whole answer all the same.  Would it crush her to know that he had seen her die?  Yet… when he thought back to their last encounter, Darcy was shocked at the news of her demise… so she must not have found out, in her lifetime, until she visited him on his 2,500th birthday.

                “You appeared in my chambers and disappeared shortly thereafter, but not before telling me that you were a time traveler.  I also sensed that you had extensive wards by my magic protecting your person.”  Partial truths, after all, were not true lies.  “You also told me that you loved me.”  The look in Darcy’s eyes was hard to read; they seemed to have brightened, but at the same time, they appeared apprehensive at the information.  Loki continued.  “The second time I saw you, you stayed a little while longer, and you were rather… affectionate.”  He smiled at the memory.  Darcy narrowed her eyes, then, but there was a playfulness in her gaze.  Loki challenged her stare for a moment before speaking.  “But that is the extent of my knowledge of you, Darcy.”

                “Well, what would you like to know?”   

                It was such a foreign concept to him, having her in his presence, not worrying about the minutes until she would disappear.  This was Darcy in present time.  A hope he hadn’t realized he’d buried inside of him, bubbled to the surface.  “Everything,” he smiled.  “I want to know everything.”  Her life was a mere twenty-one years.  Not even close to a single percent of his thousands.  Yet, she gave him all the detail that she could muster.

                Her full name was Darcy Avery Lewis.  She grew up in Connecticut where she and her two brothers, Thomas and Adrien, were raised by their paternal grandmother, Iva.  Her favorite color was plum.  She preferred dogs over cats.  Her favorite teas were chai and jasmine.  Waffles were one of her favorite foods—really, there were too many to actually list, but given the late hour, with the sun coming up, and breakfast wafting up from Izzy’s—she was a little biased at the moment.  Darcy loved all facets of literature, although she preferred thrillers and fantasy to nonfiction.  She kept a journal, documenting all of her travels.  She found robin songs to be the most peaceful; their melodies could be softly heard in the early morning.  She didn’t mind living in New Mexico, but the one thing she missed the most about her childhood home was the winter: the silence of snowfall, the whir of the wind in the trees, and the crispness of the air on her face.

                Darcy explained that although she was focusing her studies at Culver on political science, once she had stumbled across the application for an internship with Jane Foster, she couldn’t let the opportunity slip away.  Jane’s research revolved around worm holes and travel through time and space.  As a teleporting time traveler, the knowledge that Darcy could learn from Jane was invaluable.  What if, eventually, Jane’s work would help Darcy find more people like herself?  It was a question she often asked herself.

                Loki desperately wanted her to keep going, but he could see her fatigue.  Darcy’s posture had slid into a relaxed slouch, and her eyes were drooping.  She was stifling a yawn when he stood.  “As much as I want to stay, I can see you are clearly in need of rest.”

                “Yeah, I need to get to bed,” was her groggy reply.  She gently rose and stretched her muscles, standing on the tips of her toes, pulling her arms above her head as high as they could go, her back arching with relief.  “Every day with Jane is a long day, and I’ll bet tomorrow won’t be an exception.”

                Loki smiled and nodded.  “It has truly been a pleasure to have finally met you, Darcy Lewis of Midgard.  I have waited a very, very long time for this moment.”  His last sentence was quiet as an unfamiliar wave of shyness overtook him.  A blush crept up his cheeks and he lowered his head to avert her gaze.  After a moment of silence, he mustered the courage to meet her gaze and stepped towards her; the distance between them swallowed by his one step.  “Goodnight, Darcy,” he whispered before bending his head to place a chaste kiss on her cheeks.  In this form, all she could have felt was a slight drop in temperature, but the sentiment behind the gesture was more important.  Loki disappeared in a green shimmer, but not before seeing one of her hands cover the part of her cheek he had just kissed.

***

                The confrontation he’d gotten into with Heimdal had grated against his nerves.  When Loki reached the palace, he headed straight to his quarters, shedding the bulkiest parts of his armor as he entered.  When he was satisfied with his state of undress, he sank to the floor in a meditative position.  If one thing could soothe his nerves and distract him from new complications, it was Darcy Lewis.

                He exhaled and let his mind wander… sifting through the various sub-consciousnesses floating about like leaves in the tree of Yggdrasil.  A familiar hum drifted through his ears and he smiled.  There she was.

                Darcy was sleeping, and he called her dream orb to him, the bubble floating closer at his command.  It was exhilarating to finally have her company in the current time.  He had waited far too long to catch up with her, but alas, all good things come with patience. 

                Her dreamscape was a rolling tempest.  He found himself in a clearing near a tree with lots of hanging tendrils, each of the spindles whipping violently in the harsh wind.  Despite the numerous claps of thunder, and the flashes of lightning, there was no rain—just an eerie, roaring sound in the distance.  Having grown up with Thor, thunderstorms held no effect over him.  Regardless, something wasn’t right.

                An extremely close bolt of lightning blinded him momentarily.  When he opened his eyes, there was a small girl some meters in front of him, wearing a nightgown, her curly hair blowing madly in the wind.  Her back was to him, and she seemed fixated on something downhill from their point of view.  He made a motion to step towards the child, when a bloodcurdling scream erupted from her.  “NO!” her shrill pitch pierced through the storm and caused him to freeze in his tracks.  The little girl did not appear frightened.  She sounded absolutely outraged and continued howling, a white-knuckle grip ripping at her clothes.  His curiosity took over, needing to see what was to unfold; so Loki remained quiet and stayed put.

                A sickening sound of splintering wood erupted from below them and she immediately silenced.  Another streak of lightning lit up the sky and revealed the source of the horrific noise.  A massive black, swirling vortex was elegantly ripping apart a house, debris flying everywhere.  The tornado headed away from them, leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake—almost like breadcrumbs from a popular Midgardian folktale. The heavy roar died down with its distance, enough so, that Loki could make out the sounds of the little girl crying.  She had sunk to her knees, apathetic to the mud soaking into her gown and covering her legs.  She just stared at the carnage of where the house once was.  “No no no no no,” she repeated over and over again; her voice growing heartbreakingly tiny.

                “Darcy?”  Loki said as he approached her, kneeling down beside her.

                “This is the first time I ever traveled,” She said, sounding much more knowledgeable than her youthful appearance.  She didn't look at him, and he stayed silent; comparing her features when he could make them out in the lightning, the thunder now far off in the distance.  Yes, it was her.  He recognized the shape of her blue eyes, and the softness of her face, the woman that she would grow into was hiding just under the surface.

                “It's the night my parents died.”  She turned towards him, her voice unnervingly calm.  “The curse of time travel is that I constantly relive this moment, whether it manifests itself as an anguishing nightmare, or I travel to the actual moment, I'm always a bystander—always watching the people that I love die and there is nothing I can do about it.”

                “The terrifying truth that you will experience their death again is...” he paused a moment, his memories taking him back over two thousand years—to the young boy cradling the dying girl who loved him.  He struggled to find the words.  “It's something that will haunt you for the rest of your life.  The uncertainty of when it will happen...” Darcy looked at him then, and nodded; her blue eyes wide and questioning at his complete understanding.  He held his tongue, not willing to give up that secret just yet.  Instead, he considered another.

                “Darcy, there is something you must know about me.” He stood up and began pacing away from her.  He wanted so badly to confide in her—to tell her about his inner turmoil at the discovery of his true parentage.  Surely, if one person in all the realms were to be accepting, it would be the woman who would become his wife; and she obviously became aware at some point in time, it might as well be now.

                “What?” She asked, wiping as much mud off as she could while she got up.

                “As it turns out, I am not Asgardian.”  Darcy's confused expression looked so much more perplexed upon her younger countenance.  “I am Jotun.”

                “Jotun?”

                “A frost giant.”  Loki did his best to hold back the bite in his tone.

                “You don't look like one,” she commented.

                “Because this form is one apparently created from instinctual magic, and not my true appearance.”

                “I don't understand.”

                “The Jotun king, Laufey, abandoned me at birth, whereupon Odin discovered me... I was powerful enough in my infancy to alter my appearance to those around me.”

                “What do you really look like, then?” she asked quietly.

                Loki's nostrils flared as he exhaled.  He couldn't believe he was doing this, but slowly, his skin faded from the pristine paleness of an Asgardian, to the cold blue of a Jotun. “I am a monster.”  Slowly, he met her gaze to gauge her reaction, knowing full well that his most frightening feature was, in fact, the crimson color of his eyes.

                Darcy studied him intently, her face revealing no sign of emotion. He patiently waited for her to run from him, screaming in horror.  Instead, she rushed towards him, aging in the process, changing and growing from the little girl in the dream to the young woman he'd just met.  As soon as she reached him, she pulled his face to hers and pressed her lips against his.  “You're not a monster,” she reassured him.

                “To Odin, my true parentage automatically eradicates any possibility of my ascension to the throne.”  Loki brushed some of Darcy's hair behind her ears, changing back into his Asgardian form.  “I have to prove to him that I am more worthy of the crown than Thor and all his belligerence.”  He pulled her into a hug then, running his fingers through her hair.  She started to say something; her voice a quiet, muffled protest into the leather of his vest, but he spoke over of her. “The only way I can ensure my coronation is to sneak Laufey into Asgard, and then kill him myself.”

                “What?”  Darcy pushed away from him then.  “You would murder someone for self-gain?”  He went to speak, but she continued.  “And in such a way to make yourself the hero?  Are you fucking kidding me?”

                “Darcy, I see no other way.”

                “Other way?!  It’s not like you can be certain that your dad will let you keep the throne.”

                “Oh, but I am.”

                “How?” she asked, slowly backing away from him.

                “You told me.”

                “If what I told you was true, then it would happen naturally.  It’s not something that you can force or something that you can change just because you know about it.  Believe me, I’ve tried.  You just have to be patient.  Don’t do this.” 

He was striding towards her now; and when her back was against the tree, he caged her in with his arms.  “And you are my queen.”

                “You can’t possibly think that I would want to spend the rest of my life with someone who kills people when he doesn’t get what he wants.  It's such a cop-out—a weakness.”  She was holding her ground against him with an iron fist and fire in her eyes.

                “Oh, Darcy, not to give you a taste of your own medicine, but, the future where you love me _will_ come to pass, and you will spend the rest of your life with me; no matter how much you deny it now.”  Her eyes were far away, thinking over all the information he’d gleaned about her future self, no doubt.

                There were tears in her eyes when she finally looked at him again, her chin was tilted in defiance, and the anger surging through her was almost palpable.  “Then at least I can count on the fact that I won’t be around forever.” 

The world around them seemed to crumble away, and Loki found himself alone on his floor.  Darcy’s last words had struck the raw endings of a nerve he’d buried deep.  She would rather die than spend her life with him?  His mouth hung open.  It was a shock to him, to think that she might be able to do something to change the outcome he had been planning on.  Quite possibly, he just lost the woman who loved him so much, she died for him.  Loki could still feel the ringing of her animosity in his ears.

***

                He could still do this, he told himself as he placed the staff into the Bifrost.  Thor had nearly ruined his plans, but he could still do this.  Loki watched with satisfaction as the full power of the Bifrost was unleashed upon Jotunheim.  Let it erase his people so that no one would know he was one of them.

                Thor entered with all his righteousness; it was sickening.  There was no way that Loki was going to let anything stop him now.  He wanted nothing more than to rid the world of the monsters that plagued the stories of his youth.  The monster deep down that he refused to accept.

                Loki felt his heart clench when Thor, ever the hero, wanted to save the Jotuns.  There was no way he could have known about their family's dirty little secret.  Bless his heart; he might actually be accepting of Loki's condition.  No matter, Loki still had Gungnir; he still had all the power of the realms.

                They faced off inside the Bifrost site, Yggdrasil visibly solidifying with the power surging through it. Loki scoffed when Thor refused to fight him and he was curious to find the answer.  Was it really the human woman that changed him so?  His ever quick, silver tongue bit out his question.  But, hadn't Darcy changed Loki irrevocably?  From the moment she appeared in his arms all those years ago, he had changed.  Everything he wanted out of life had changed.  He wanted her.  But the power was still coursing through him.  And although Darcy had rejected him, he hadn't given up on the idea of being king.  He'd merely given up hope on her.  Something, some memory in the back of his mind, left a bitter taste in his mouth.  His mind had been tainted, drunk on his new power.

                Loki and Thor burst through the structure of the Bifrost and landed on the bridge.  As a trickster, there was no way he could resist casting a specter off the edge, playing to his brother’s never-ending love for him.  But the bite of Thor's lightning caused him to curse the gods.  And he wasn't expecting the big oaf to place his hammer on his chest; the weight crushing him into the bridge.  Loki was going to win.  He would have laughed had it been easier to breathe.

                “Look at you, the mighty Thor, with all your strength and what good does it do you now? Do you hear me brother?  There's nothing you can do!”

                Suddenly, the hammer flew off his chest, and Loki struggled to sit up, looking on in horror as Thor began to destroy the bridge with blow after blow from Mjölnir. 

                “What are you doing?”  He was in complete disbelief.  “If you destroy the bridge, you'll never see her again!”  He could care less about Thor's petty love interest... but Loki wouldn't be able to see Darcy again either.  And he realized at the moment where he just might lose her again, forever, the promise that he'd made to her while she died in his arms— that he wouldn't give up on her. It took all the strength he could muster from being under the hammer, but he rose to his feet to stop his brother.

                The explosion from the bridge as it ruptured blasted him back with so much energy.  Everything was silent except for the ringing in his ears; the light blinding his eyes.  His stomach twisted with the sickening motion of being tossed around in the air.  He blinked furiously as he fell, desperately trying to restore his vision and orient himself in the free fall.

                He grabbed a hold of Gungnir at the last moment and Thor wrapped his mighty grip around the staff as well.  Both princes of Asgard were held over the precipice to the nine realms by the Allfather.  Loki had used his silver tongue to try and gain forgiveness and understanding, but when the man he had called his father rejected him, he felt nothing but despair.  His family would never understand the things he did or why… And Darcy… she didn’t want him either.

                So Loki made a decision.  He let go.  He let them all go.


	5. Accismus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to break up this next chapter, otherwise you'd have a 10k+ worded behemoth and I didn't want it to seem tl;dr. This chapter starts to follow the events of The Avengers.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING! There is a noncon scene when Loki talks to The Other. I have it marked (a small paragraph), so you can skip it if you want. It's not super important, so don't worry about missing any plot if you don't read it.
> 
> Suggested Listening: The Village Main Theme -- James Newton Howard

_Accismus_

_From the Greek, “coyness”; feigning disinterest in something while actually desiring it._

* * *

 

            Darcy had come a long way, and it was all going to pay off.  It was a beautiful day in Willowdale; no humidity, full sun, and a slight breeze blowing the hem of her gown.  She stood just off the side of the stage, adjusting her cords and sash, straightening her tassel.  She both heard it, and did not, when her name was called.  _Darcy Avery Lewis, Bachelor of Science, Summa cum Laude, with honors in Political Science_.  She walked across the stage with a smile on her face and shook the hand of Culver’s President as she reached for her diploma case.  She vaguely remembers hearing the wolf whistles of her brothers, Tom and Adrien; the shrill pitch of Jane’s enthusiasm; and a baritone voice shouting something that just didn’t _quite_ sound like English followed by her name.  She smiled proudly as she made her way back to her seat.  She worked so hard for this.

            After the ceremony, Darcy and her loving supporters had a celebratory dinner at a local seafood place.  Her brothers, predictably, both ordered lobster tails; Jane had a lovely and aromatic lemon sea bass, one of her favorites; and Erik had a pile of oysters on a formidable plate.  Darcy heartily dug into her all-time favorite: a coconut shrimp platter with a to-die for Hawaiian sauce.  A particular scene involving Emma Stone in _Easy A_ popped into her head.  Darcy crossed her eyes and moaned; content with conceiving a food baby.

            “Could somebody pass me another one of those heavenly cheddar biscuits?”  She said before biting into a shrimp.

            “So what’s our little sister going to do now that she’s official a member of adult society?”  Tom said, throwing the biscuit at her.  Darcy caught the roll with a show of impressive reflex skills.

            “Well,” She began, ripping off pieces of the bread and putting it in her mouth.  “I would like to stay working with the ever intelligent Jane Foster; that is, if she’ll have me.”  Darcy winked at Jane from across the table, putting another piece of biscuit in her mouth.

            “I suppose…” Jane began, the tone in her voice sounding completely exhausted. “It’s not like we had any people who may have been more qualified apply in the past four years.”  Jane’s lips smiled around her fork as she took a bite of her fish.  Darcy threw the paltry remainder of her biscuit at the scientist. 

            “Anyone who can decipher your chicken scratch of handwriting deserves a Noble Peace Prize, Jane.  And Darcy translates your frenzied thoughts into something coherent with unbelievable speed.”

“Thank you, Erik.”  Darcy sat back in her chair and sighed with contentment as she cradled her engorged stomach.

“Besides, Darce, there isn’t anyone more perfect to assist a famous astrophysicist studying interplanetary travel and worm holes than someone with your… condition.”  Adrien chipped in.

“That’s what I keep telling myself, literally.”

            After everyone else partook in a few rounds of drinks in celebration, Darcy having her customary one, they called it a night.  Erik came around and gave Darcy a big hug, congratulating her and telling her how proud he was.  There was a sparkle to his eyes, almost like they were shining brighter or he was tearing up; Darcy felt touched at the sentiment.  Erik turned and gave a hug to Jane, then shook Tom and Adrien’s hands before hailing a cab to the airport.  He had an important meeting the next day and was flying back out to somewhere in the Mojave desert to meet with a director of some research program of which he had been working diligently for the past few months.

The four returned to their hotel.  Tom and Adrien invited the girls back to their room to hang out, but Darcy quickly, and politely, declined.  They exchanged tired goodnights and headed off to their rooms. The twins had both had enormous crushes on Jane ever since they met her, and Darcy wasn’t going to encourage interaction that would lead to a disappointing outcome for the two of them.  It was just damn near impossible to compete with a god. 

Darcy thought about a certain deity who had pursued her as they walked through the posh hallway.  Other than having mental stability, it was hard to compete against Loki.  She wondered where he was now; she hadn’t let herself think about him since she saw Thor annihilate the Destroyer that Loki had sent to Earth.  He hadn’t tried to contact her again.  She was thankful for that.  Darcy engrossed herself in her studies and focused on finishing her degree, burying deep the pull they had towards one another.

            She and Jane immediately kicked off their heels when they keyed through the door.  Darcy plopped down on her bed while Jane went to the bathroom and began taking out her earrings.

            “Do you really relay information to yourself?”  Darcy made eye contact with Jane’s reflection in the mirror as she continued her ministrations.  Although Jane knew about Darcy’s secret—she had to explain her sudden disappearances eventually—Jane had never really asked for details; which, for the scientist, was pretty rare.  It looked like tonight was the night to finally satisfy her curiosity and Darcy would oblige.

            “Nah.  Traveling isn’t _that_ exciting.  I’ve never actually seen myself.”

            “Really?” Jane asked, a comical expression on her face as she began to remove her eye makeup.

            “Mhmm.  It’s not like I could even win the lottery, or anything cool for self-gain, because I’ve never even traveled into the future before.  I just always seem to go back to the past.  And none of it is really interesting.  I either go back to the night my parents died or to some mundane day in my existence.”

            “You go back to the night your parents died?  I’m really sorry, Darce, that must be really painful.”  Jane rinsed her face, and noted the complete silence from the other room as she toweled off.  “Darcy?”  She walked out of the bathroom, and found the bedroom empty.

***

            Darcy’s bare feet were sucking up the cold from the marble floor, making her shiver.  She had no idea where she was… She explored the room with timid steps, listening for any noise and taking in her gilded surroundings.  Tapestry after tapestry hung from the ceiling, and she weaved between them; each one depicted a different scene.  As Darcy headed to the front of the room, she could hear the soft melody of someone humming.  There was a standalone bookshelf separating her from whoever was on the other side.  Darcy flattened her body against it, and peered around the corner, isolating every muscle in her movements to help conceal her location.

            A beautiful woman was sitting at a loom; her long, golden hair in an intricate braid around her head and falling down her back.  The soft material of her regal gown swished as she moved her hands over the threads.  She was working on a vast tapestry.  At such a stage of progress, it was hard to discern anything of meaning, but it seemed like the fabric was going to depict a wedding or maybe a coronation.  The gold threads of the material exuded a royal air; and, two people, a man and a woman, had their backs to a large crowd in a magnificent hall.  The woman kept working, humming in contentment, adding a metallic blue thread to the theme of the room.

            The woman paused a moment, seeming to sense a presence.  Darcy was pretty sure the jig was up, and was about to step around from her hiding spot, hands held high in surrender, when the woman continued her work.

            “And what have you done now, my son?”  A young, dark haired boy stepped from behind tapestries opposite from Darcy’s position.  His hands were behind his back and he looked rather guilty.  “Loki?”  The woman’s tone was commanding as she sat back and waited for an explanation.

            _Loki?_ Darcy was absolutely bewildered.  Surely his name was a weird coincidence… maybe it got popular over the past few years?  But the more she examined the boy before her, the more she recognized him as the man she ran into in the desert about a year ago.  Was this little boy _the_ Loki?  God of Mischief extraordinaire?  Thor’s brother?  Did that mean that she was on Asgard?  If all of those things were true, then _when_ the hell was she?  Thousands of years in the past?  Her stomach churned violently.

            “I turned Sif’s hair black.” The boy stated.

            “Why would you do such a thing?”

            “I asked the orb to show me who I was going to marry, and I saw a girl with dark hair”

            “Loki,” The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Just because you saw something in the orb, doesn’t mean you can change things now so they work out the way that you want them to.  The future doesn’t work that way.  Time doesn’t allow it.”  The poor boy looked deflated at his mother’s words.  “Besides, since when have maidens interested my sweet, little boy?  For as long as I can remember, you couldn’t care less about what little girls thought about you, preferring to have your nose buried in your books.”  A warm smile spread across her face.

            “I just wanted assurance that I’m not going to be alone; that I’m going to be happy.”  Loki was rocking back and forth, shuffling his feet, and staring at the ground; obviously embarrassed by admitting his fears.

            “Oh, Loki,” she pulled him in to a tight hug, stroking his back.  “Don’t worry, my son.”  She pulled away slightly and gestured towards the tapestry that she was completing.  “Happiness is obtainable, but not without a lot of work.  You must be willing to make sacrifices and compromise.  But one day, you will have everything that you’ve wanted.”  One of her delicate hands pushed back a stray hair.  “Now, go and apologize to Sif and then go straight to your room.”  Loki simply nodded, and left, unable to meet his mother's eyes. 

            The woman sat back in her chair and let out a sigh.  “I suppose you can come out now, Lady Darcy.”

            Darcy's eyes grew wide, but she slowly stepped around the corner of the bookshelf.  “How do you know my name?”

            “I have been weaving your fate for quite some time, now.  I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard.”  The woman gave a slight bow to her head, and Darcy tried to return the gesture, bowing a little too low; the movement obviously awkward and unfamiliar to her.  “Come now,” she gestured to Darcy.  When Darcy stepped closer, a glass orb appeared in the queen's hands.  “Let us see what Time has in store for my son.”  Smoke misted in the ball, swirling until it formed a familiar scene.  Darcy looked down at the tapestry, then back to the queen with a puzzled look on her face.  The same image on the tapestry appeared in the little orb; Darcy's stomach began to knot.  

            The woman was in an elegant dress, dripping with blue crystals and an impossibly long train.  She rested her hand on top of that of the slender man beside her; the unmistakable shades of gold and green of his regalia; his raven hair braided halfway back in an elegant style.  Noble crowns rested atop both of their heads.  Although the orb produced no sound of the scene, there seemed to be a moment of silence as the two turned towards each other; their heads bowed, timidly looking into one anothers' eyes.  The view shifted, coming from Loki; and suddenly, she saw the girl in front of him—saw her through Loki’s eyes.  Tremblingly nervous.  Breathtakingly beautiful.  A happy future.

            Frigga laughed, breaking the silence.  “And herein lies the reason that poor Sif will forever have dark hair... He tried to turn her into you.”  Darcy looked pointedly at the woman, raising a pointed finger and opening her mouth to make a retort; but Time pulled her away.

***

            It was a week after Darcy's graduation, she didn't hear the cars stop outside, and didn't see the men and women dressed in black suits approach her as she danced around Jane's lab, jamming out to a song on her new iPod, a gift from Agent Coulson.  Jane was out in her trailer, changing out of her pjs at Darcy's behest.  It was going on 2pm, after all.

            Darcy's bouncing movement came to a complete halt when her headphones were ripped right out of her ears.  She whipped around, spewing profanities, but stopped mid swear, taking in her surroundings-- the team of agents, and Coulson himself, holding her earbuds in his hand. 

            “What are you guys doing here?”  Darcy said, angrily snatching her headphones out of his hands. 

            “Hello to you, too, Darcy.  As polite as always.”  Darcy shrugged at him in contempt.  “Where is Dr. Foster?”

            “I'm here,” came a concerned voice.  Jane was followed into the building by a few other guards.  “What's going on?”

            “We're going to send you to a lab in Norway.  There are astrophysicists there that might be able to give you a fresh look at how to build your Einstein-Rosen bridge.”

            “Really?” Jane said, “That's great!”

            Darcy leaned over a work table, skeptical, watching the reactions of the rest of the SHEILD agents in the room.  Coulson had a pretty good poker face, but that wasn't exactly true for the rest of them. 

            “You have fifteen minutes to gather your things; we have a private jet standing by.”  Jane turned to Darcy, an excited look on her face.  “Oh, and pack extra layers.  It's still rather cold this time of year.”

***

            It was rather strange for him to be corporeal on Midgard, Loki thought as he gave orders to the people he'd had under his command.  They were working on building a stabilizer that could activate a portal for the Tesseract.  The minds of these people were expendable, nothing but a renewable resource for his needs.

            Loki found a relatively deserted spot in his underground compound, and sat on the cool concrete floor, folding his legs underneath him, the scepter tight in his grip.  The Tesseract had taught him a great many things.  Not only could he teleport between realms when he had the cube in his possession, but it had shown him how to project a fully corporeal double of himself.  With a deep breath, he cleared his mind and put on his war face.

            Loki paced around the presence of The Other, unable to hold his tongue or arrogance as the veiled creature spoke before him.  Yet, Loki refused to show any sign of weakness, there was too much they could use to torture him.  He wasn't sure what all they knew when they pulled him from the deepest crevices of the universe.   He had been so tortured in the void that he had called to Hel in surrender.  When Thanos had found him, his agenda for universal control seemed like a fair trade for the throne of Midgard and Loki's knowledge of a queen to rule at his side.  However, it seemed that Loki's attitude was not tolerated by the disgusting creature before him.

            “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you.”  His putrid breath almost made Loki gag as The Other walked around him.  Loki could feel his adrenaline racing, his body re-experiencing the torment of the void.  “You think you know pain?” He whispered from behind him.  “He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”  Six leathery fingers pressed into his face. 

            Screams pierced his mind.  The world around him was chaotic, a mélange of places familiar, and places where he'd never been.  His mother stood before him, betrayal weeping from her eyes.  One of Loki's daggers was protruding from her chest.  He could remember the feel of his blade breaking bones as he drove the weapon into her, the vibrations of the metal as her slowing heart beat around it. 

_**/TriggerWarning**_

            He heard his name being called from a distance; the voice was muddled as if it were under water, flooded with fear.  Darcy was fighting him off, fighting with tooth and nail, anything that she could do to defend herself.  Loki felt his hands tear her clothing, her screams for him to stop falling on deaf ears.  His stomach was sick as he ravaged her.  The ferrous smell of Midgardian blood perforated his senses.  He seemed to regain his mind long enough to recognize the damage that he had done; tears slid down her cheeks, streaming from dead eyes.

_**/endTrigger Warning**_

            Loki yanked his head away from the creature and returned to his body on Midgard.  The nausea had yet to pass, and a sickening dizziness swept over him in a wave.  He remained seated, breathing heavily, trying to erase the images from his mind and force the bile back down his throat.

            He had tried so hard not to think of Darcy.  Her rejection had left him in a broken state when he returned to Asgard.  Yet, during his eternal fall, he could hardly think of anything else.  Never before had he considered that she might not want him.  Had their fate changed?  Was this now his?  He remembered the dying girl in his arms; the searing kiss from the heavenly creature hidden behind the mask.  Would he never know her love?

            When Thanos had rescued him, he squashed any sense of hope he began to feel at the prospect of seeing her again, not wanting Thanos to find any weakness in him.  After all, lovers were so commonly used as mere casualties of war.  So Loki did what he did best, he put on a façade and tried to hide those he cared about from the monster's view.  But apparently, his best was not enough for Thanos.

***

            Darcy and Jane had arrived at the lab in Tromso.  They bravely faced the cold that they were promised, but they were not expecting the twenty-four hour sunshine.  Luckily, though, their cabin in the mountains blocked a lot of the midnight sun, just leaving them in a perpetual twilight.

            Although their cabin was rustic and absolutely charming, they couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right.  They shared equally raised eyebrows their first day in the lab, when not only did no one seem to even remotely understand or care about Jane's research, but none of the other scientists could give a specific answer as to the why Darcy and Jane were there.

            “What is going on here?”  Jane asked over her mug of hot chocolate as she and Darcy cuddled on the couch in front of the enormous fire place.  They had turned off the TV, not interested in the local news streaming or any of the programs, all of which were in Norwegian.  With their jet lag, they just couldn't take any of the actors seriously enough to invest time into trying to understand the show.

            “They're hiding something, that's for sure.  I just can't figure out if they're being secretive because they've discovered something, or if SHIELD placed us here for some other reason.”  Jane nodded in agreement, her eyes far away in thought.  Darcy took a long sip from her mug before getting up.  She came back from the hall that led to her bedroom, returning with her trusty laptop.  “Well, do you want to find out?”  she called out as she made her way back to the couch and the warm light of the fire.

            “What do you mean?”  Jane asked, putting her mug on the end table next to her and scooting closer to Darcy.

            “I mean, I could hack into SHIELD to see if there is a more nefarious reason why people can't get their story straight here.”

            “I don't know Darce, what if SHEILD finds out what you're doing?”

            “Oh ye of little faith.”  Darcy rolled her eyes, starting the computer and logging in.  “As if I would leave a trail.  I _did_ learn a thing or two from Natasha the last time she stopped by.  Girl's got skills.”  Jane laughed, watching Darcy's fingers fly over the keys.

            “How long is it going to take?”          The astrophysicist asked.

            “I'm not sure.  Depends on how thick their security fire walls are and what methods I'll have to use.  It'll most likely be something like a battering ram, needing to use brute force and thus, rather time consuming.”  Darcy let her program run while she and Jane continued to chat on the comfy couch, the heat and soft blankets lulling them into sleep.  Jet lag was a serious pain in the ass.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and everyone's continued support!  
> Expect a very, very lengthy update here soon! (and I mean huge, no joke, total fic length is going to double!)


	6. Mamihlapinatapei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that I would have this up quicker, but I got hung up on how I wanted the last few parts of this chapter to play out. I'm still not even sure if I like it 100%, so let me know what you guys think.
> 
> And BOOM! There goes my fic length! HACHAA! 
> 
> Your reviews and kudos mean so much to me! Thank you!!!!
> 
> Recommended listening: American Beauty (the title song)-- Thomas Newman

_Mamihlapinatapei_

_Yagan, an indigenous language of Tierra del Fuego. It means the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start._

* * *

 

Darcy woke up at the first tingling and softly groaned. She absolutely hated traveling while she was asleep. Although it didn't happen often, she was always super annoyed by it. She was never dressed, being stuck in whatever she decided or didn't decide to wear to sleep. Thank God she had the common sense to at least keep her bra on for a little longer. Having the girls flop around in the view of strangers always made her uncomfortable, regardless if she was wearing a shirt or tank top. And if it was cold? Well, she would just look like she was poorly concealing a couple daggers on her chest.

She traveled to an apartment in some high rise overlooking some metropolis. The sun was just peaking over the horizon, but she couldn't tell if it was dawn or dusk. She examined the rest of her surroundings. The size of the room was enormous. There was a bed to her left, the headboard resting against the floor to ceiling windows. A walk in closet could be seen at the far end, along with a closed door that must lead to an en suite bathroom. The room was homey, and familiar, with decorations that she would have chosen for herself. This was most certainly not the scene of a boring day in her past. Had Darcy finally traveled to the future? She walked towards the window, gazing at the cityscape around her. New York, she surmised recognizing the Hudson River and Central Park in the distance.

There was a faint sound from the far end of the room, but she was too busy looking up at the platform just out of view from the window. Was she in _Stark Tower_?! Her neck was starting to hurt from the strenuous way she was craning it around.

“Darcy, you're back,” an accented voice came from behind her. She instantly whipped around and gasped, pressing her back against the glass. Loki was on the other side of the room, clad in nothing but a loose fitting, rather low rising, pair of cotton pants. She could smell the clean scent of the shower wafting from the now open door of the bathroom. Moisture clung to his body, making his skin glisten and her mouth water. And oh my, was it a body; muscles rippling everywhere as he rubbed the towel through his hair. He hadn't seen her awestruck expression yet. “It is now September 14th, 2015. You have been gone for three days.” His voice was slightly muffled as he continued to dry his hair.

“What?” she whispered, her gaze still locked on him.

His skilled hands lowered the fluffy towel from his face. “Oh,” he said, taking in her appearance; black sweatpants with “Culver” printed down the side, and a loose fitting knit sweater. Her hair was a little unkempt, high on her head in its messy bun, and she felt nervous under his gaze, tucking as many errant strands behind her ears as she could. Her unwavering concentration on his exposed physique did not go unnoticed. He trailed a hand down his well-cut abdomen. Her gaze followed his movement and she quietly whispered his name. Loki's lips broke into a mischievous grin and he gave a small chuckle.

“You're not quite _my_ Darcy yet, are you?” His question broke her gawking and her head snapped up at the inquiry, feeling a little embarrassed that she’d been so distracted. His hair was much longer than the last time she’d seen him, falling below his shoulders in feathery wisps.

“ _Your_ Darcy? I'm-- I'm in the future?” she stammered. A wave of dizziness rushed over her, and she started to sway. Loki was at her side in an instant, easing her over to the bed. “We're... _together..._ in the future?” She looked absolutely pale.

“Yes, love. When are you from?” He knelt close to her, one of his hands resting on top of hers. Despite what he’d done in New Mexico, she just couldn’t be afraid of him. Not when he was being so gentle and was so…exposed.

“May 2012. I don't remember the day. Jane and I are in Tromso for some reason.” She was finding it difficult to hold eye contact. Darcy was itching to continue her examination of him, and his bare chest was within touching distance… she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to keep her tongue from hanging out or making any kind of licking motion.

Loki was silent for a moment. “It's because of me, I’m afraid,” he sighed. Loki took a couple steps back and sat on his haunches, giving her room. She looked at him with a harsh gaze, her eyes now focused on him instead of appraising his form.

“What?” she asked pointedly. Loki looked apologetic. “The last time I saw you, you destroyed Puente Antiguo and tried to kill us. So, when you say that Jane and I are in Tromso _because of you_ , I can only assume the worst.” She flopped down on the bed, covering her face with her hands.

“I'm sick, Darcy.” He said quietly. “I was sick,” he repeated as he slowly rose from his knees and sat in an armchair on the other side of the room. Darcy rolled on to her side to listen. Loki rested his elbows on his thighs and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’d given up hope on you―which is something you made me promise not to do,” he added, almost as an aside which she didn’t understand. “And when Thor returned to Asgard… I believed that I’d lost you―you; the only person who would ever come to truly understand me. And then when he destroyed the Bifrost… I felt that death was more preferable to loneliness and the punishment of my crimes.” His hands dropped from his face and twisted in knots in his lap. “How I wish I could take it all back.

“I was lost in the void between realms for millennia, ripped apart and tortured over and over again. I was begging for death when he found me.”

“When who found you?” Darcy sat up on the bed. Her voice was soft, a hint of sadness in its tone.

“An adversary far more powerful than even the Allfather.” She rose from the bed and began pacing around the room, her arms crossed over her chest, biting her lip. Loki looked at her then, his eyes rimmed red, making the green of his irises stand out in contrast. “He reduced me to a shell of a being, a puppet which he could control. He poisoned my mind with my basest desires; a throne and acceptance.”

“This sounds bad. This sounds really bad.” Loki stood as well, meeting her in the middle of a stride, taking her hand in his.

“If I remember correctly, you end up staying here with me for a couple days.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, annoyed. “You keep telling me things that I don’t want to hear.”

“You are the one person who can save me, Darcy Lewis.” The gravity of his words felt like cold water sliding down her stomach. His demeanor turned into something resembling desperation. “Let me show you that I am not the monster that you have seen. Let me prove that I become so much more.” His voice was soft, gentle; filled with an emotion she wasn’t sure she was familiar with.

Darcy sighed and decided that she couldn’t look into his pleading eyes another moment; worried that she might fall into their vulnerability like a spell. So she took in her surroundings with more detail than she had when she first arrived. It was then that she really noticed the pictures on the walls, the stills in the bookshelves, and the frames decorating the small vanity. Smiling faces stared back at her. They were of herself with people she knew and people she did not; Tom and Adrien, and a handful beautiful brown-haired children, sprawling on Darcy’s lap, looking both like their fathers, and at the same time, not; Thor, holding both she and Jane far off the ground in a tight bear hug, the laughter on their faces jumping from the photo. And there was one picture she couldn’t stop looking at. She walked over to it as Loki continued.

“This is your apartment, after all. If you would like me to leave, I completely understand. All of this must be confusing for you.”

Darcy sat on the bed and took the ornate frame from the nightstand, holding it delicately in her hands. It was a candid photo, looking to have been professionally taken. The backdrop was of an unfamiliar place, a gilded great hall. She didn’t recognize the dress either; red lace in a beautiful floral pattern; a decorative chain resting upon the soft curls around her crown; or the ornate jewelry decorating her wrists and fingers. She did, however, recognize the expression on her face. Her bright red lips were parted in a frozen smile in the middle of laughter; and her eyes were shut tight, eyebrows turned up. It was an expression that she attributed to her happiest moments. But the real reason the photo caught her attention was because Darcy was standing with Loki, who didn’t look much different than the one next to her. They looked to have been in the middle of a dance, Loki’s hands resting possessively on her waist. Darcy’s hands were on his shoulders, almost pushing him away, like whatever he had just said to her was one of the funniest things in the world and she couldn’t contain herself. And Loki had a proud smile, artfully curving from his lips, which were pressed against her forehead. The vibrant olive of his eyes seemed to sparkle through the photo, his expression matching her own uncontainable mirth.

“That was in celebration of Thor and Jane’s coronation.” Darcy was so caught up in the beauty and emotion of the picture that she had no idea when he sat next to her. “You looked absolutely radiant in that gown. I wanted nothing more but to leave that celebration for a better, more private one; but you were adamant that we remain in support of Lady Jane and my brother. In contest, I was constantly whispering sweet nothings into your ear to try and change your mind. When you continued to hold your resolve despite the palpable tension in your body, I threw you what you Midgardians call a ‘curve ball’. I told you some obscene joke that I can’t remember now, but all of your energy at deflecting my hushed temptations converted into hysterical laughter.” He chuckled, and it was a delightful sound to which Darcy found that she just couldn’t help but smile.

“If this is too much for you, I can leave and give you some space.” She could feel his concerned gaze on the side of her face as she continued to look at the picture, tracing her thumb in a comforting motion along the side of the frame.

“I’ve never been to the future before,” Darcy replied. “And there must be a reason that I’m here… some learning experience.” She turned to look at him then, his innocent expression giving him a boyish countenance. “I’d like you to stay.” The smile he flashed at her was contagious, and she could feel her lips turning up as well. “I want to have a taste of the life that I’m going to live.” His eyes had dropped down to her lips, then, and his innocent demeanor had turned heated.

“Well, I shall do my best to please you…” Their breathing had slowed to a languid pace, and some distant part of her brain recognized that he was gradually moving closer to her, causing her gaze to slide down to the expanse of skin so close, her hands reached for him on a subconscious level. “Letting you experience anything short of knowledge leading to time traveling paradoxes.” His hands clasped around hers just before she could touch him, and she broke out of whatever trance his body had set her in. “Darcy...” She sighed in defeat, not sure if she’d ever get used to the sound of her name on his lips.

“Hmm?”

“You should get some rest. It’s still rather early and you don’t look like you’ve slept a wink.” At his mention of sleep, she nodded with a yawn. “I’ll have breakfast for you when you wake.” He helped tuck her under the comforter, lowered the shade with a slight of hand, and bid her sweet dreams before closing the door.

***

Darcy woke an indeterminable amount of time later to a heavenly aroma; eggs and bacon frying, and coffee freshly brewing. Odd. All of Jane’s sophisticated culinary attempts resulted in setting off the smoke detector. When she opened her eyes, the room was dark and it was hard to see anything. Darcy ground her knuckles into her eyes to try to fight away the last remnants of sleep and bring her surroundings into focus.

“Would you like me to open the blinds, Ms. Lewis?”

“Yes, please, JARVIS,” was her automatic reply. As the mechanical sound of the blinds broke the silence of the room, Darcy opened her eyes in alarm, the brightness burning her retinas for a moment before she could take in her surroundings. In her sleep-addled mind, she recalled the sound of the British AI from when she and Jane stayed at Stark Tower to meet Dr. Banner and _the_ Iron Man, Tony Stark. It only took her a moment to remember why she was back―well not _back_ back, necessarily.

Darcy got up from the impossibly comfortable bed and headed towards the bathroom, finding a clean, fluffy towel, set out for her along the way. The marble tiling and frameless glass shower with its gold fixtures had her oohing and ahing. She ran her hand along the countertop, noticing the “his and hers” sinks, and the little cup holding two toothbrushes. She giggled at her discovery. Gods, probably, were above tooth brushing, but it gave her warm fuzzies to see an extra brush anyway. She laughed trying to imagine Loki brushing his teeth next to her. Eying the two utensils, she didn’t know which one was hers, so she simply picked one up, squirted toothpaste she’d found in a random drawer on it, and went to town cleaning her mouth. If it didn’t end up being hers, it was obvious that her future self and Loki were intimate enough that sharing spit would be the most innocent of their interactions.

She turned on the shower, setting it to a warmer setting than she usually preferred, still slightly chilled from Norway, and was amazed at the waterfall feature, water cascading from the ceiling. My, oh my, she could get used to this. After emptying her bladder and flushing the toilet, Darcy undressed and wrapped the towel around herself, waiting for the water to heat up. She allowed her curiosity to take over and began opening the rest of the drawers and cupboards she hadn’t yet explored. You could tell a lot about someone by the cleanliness and contents of their bathroom. Hair spray, leave in conditioner, tampons, new razor blades, extra toilet paper, body lotion, nail polishes, lipsticks, glosses, and other makeup products―typical female bathroom supplies. She picked up a bottle of bath oil and inhaled the soothing aroma, jasmine and a scent she couldn’t recognize. She was very excited to get to try it out, but was disappointed at not having a bathtub. Oh well.

There was one last spot she wanted to explore, a door at the other end of the bathroom, a linen closet, she was sure, but she was giddy with the newness and sense of possession. These were all her things, after all. She pulled the golden handle down and opened the door. “ _Damn.”_ She hadn’t quite realized that she’d said that out loud, but _damn._ Curiosity _did_ kill the cat.

Well, she found her tub. It was an expansive claw foot, at least six feet long, if not more; probably custom made to accommodate the height of a certain Frost Giant. It seemed more like a pool when she approached it. The tub room was a little piece of paradise tucked away in the corner of the building, two walls being nothing but floor to ceiling windows highlighting the sprawling city outside. A plethora of potted plants turned the atmosphere into a tropical resort; the green adding so much life and character to the room. But the real crème de la crème was that the two inside walls were nothing but bookshelves overflowing with some titles she recognized as her favorites, many that were new to her, and also a good amount in a language that she didn’t think was “ _Midgardian”,_ so to speak. Oh, she was going to love enjoying this room during her stay.

Darcy skipped out the door with a stupidly happy grin on her face; like a kid who just found all the hidden Christmas presents and discretely peeled back some wrapping paper to find out she’d gotten everything she’d wanted. She was beginning to feel impatient for the future.

Back in the shower room, she hung her towel and stepped under the spray, a moan of pleasure escaping from her lips. This was most certainly the life. When she felt good and soaked from the spray, she picked up each of the bottles lining the wall. She recognized things as products she would use, and there was also a set for those of the male persuasion. She instantly blushed, remembering that Loki had been in this very shower mere hours ago. Darcy opened each one, inhaling the enticing aromas she recognized from earlier. She would bet good money that they at least shared a couple bathing sessions together and the thought caused heat to pool between her legs. The shower was certainly big enough for two, and she imagined feeling the contrast of the cool marble wall at her back, warm water dripping over her skin, and Loki holding her up. Her fantasy made her shiver and goose bumps raced down her skin.

Hair properly squeegeed, and towel tucked back around her, she left the bathroom and headed straight for the closet―Holy walk-in, Batman! She had so many clothes! So many shoes! Ugh! She definitely couldn’t go through it all now! Her stomach grumbled and she remembered another familiar smell wafting into the bedroom. Quickly, she found her bra and panty drawer, smirking and whistling at some of her discoveries, and pulled a more modest set on. After that, she slipped into a pair of black leggings and a comfortable Culver baseball T-shirt that she recognized.

Darcy walked out of the room in search of the kitchen, her nose as her guide. She found, instead, a quaint dining table filled with a fresh stack of waffles, a plate of sunny-side up eggs, and at least a pound of bacon. There was freshly squeezed orange juice looking tempting in a glass pitcher, but her eyes searched the room for the source of the coffee aroma. She walked through an open archway and into the kitchen, where she found Loki―sadly clothed― in a soft cotton, green, V-neck, pouring coffee into a mug she recognized, “World’s #1 Grandma” printed on the side―it was a gift Darcy had given to her Gramma when she was in elementary school, saving up all the change she could find between the couch cushions and feeling proud when Iva delighted in it. A sad pit formed in her chest at the realization of why it must be back in her possession.

Loki turned to her and held out the mug; she didn’t register that he’d prepared her coffee just the way she liked it, lots of milk and sugar; she couldn’t stop staring at it. She hadn’t reached for it yet, and that’s when Loki recognized the look on her face. “Oh Darcy, my sincerest apologies.” He turned away, reaching for another mug in the cupboard.

“No, No!” She said, reaching out to stop him. “It’s okay. I know it’s going to happen someday.” She fought back her tears and forced a smile onto her face, bringing the mug to her lips and taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Thank you.”

Loki joined her at the table for breakfast. Most of the food was piled high on his plate and he was sucking the orange juice down like a fish out of water. It put a smile on her face to see him so domestic; definitely a contrast to the high and mighty _Oh Prince of Asgard_ that she was used to. And god, the man could eat-- or rather― _Man, the God could eat._ It would suffice to say Loki put the Phelp's Breakfast to shame and then some.

When they had finished, Loki refused to let Darcy help in cleaning up the table, encouraging her instead, to explore her apartment. With a new wave of excitement and wonder, Darcy left the dining room. She opened various closets and cupboards throughout the rooms, stopping in the living room.

A large flat screen television was mounted above a grandiose fireplace; the hearth clearly the real feature of the room. To the right of the ornate masonry of the chimney stack was a large tapestry that warmed the wall. Darcy was examining it, her hand rubbing at her chin, when Loki came in beside her, hands placed behind his back like a curator at an art exhibition.

“My mother's tapestry...” he trailed off. They stood in silence for a moment before he continued. “It was a gift.”

“It's just amazing to see it finished.”

Loki turned to her, confusion written in his expression. “Finished?” he asked.

“I traveled there about a month ago. She was working on it then, and had just started to add this beautiful blue thread to it.” Darcy walked towards it, stretching out her hand to touch the fabric, “You were there, too―just really young,” she said over her shoulder. Darcy pulled her fingers back just before contact, not wanting to damage the ancient work. “You had just enchanted Sif's hair to turn it black, and she was admonishing you for it. I was hiding behind the bookshelf.” Loki was rooted to the spot, speechless. “But I remember there being so much more blue...” She sucked in her bottom lip and concentrated on the piece.

“There is.” Loki walked up to the piece, lowering the blinds on the walls with a wave of his hand, and touched the fabric. When the room was filled with darkness, a vibrant blue glow emanated from the tapestry, the light dancing off the walls like reflections of water in a pool. The scene had also changed as well. The golden hall was replaced with an icy one, and in the center of the celebration was a beautiful and surprisingly blue-skinned Darcy, and next to her a regal and Jotun Loki.

“Oh, wow... It's breathtaking.”

“One of her finest works, no doubt.” Darcy nodded, awestruck.

“How is she doing?” Loki dropped his hand from the fabric and walked back to the middle of the room, raising the blinds as he went. His face looked lost, and his eyes shone brightly. “Loki?” Darcy walked over and gently placed her hand on his arm. He released a large exhale, seeming to muster up the courage of what he was about to say.

“My mother's soul sailed through the gates of Valhalla last year.” At his words, Darcy felt her heart break. She had only just met her... and she would soon be gone forever? Tears threatened to spill over her lashes at the broken expression on his face. Darcy knew all too well the hopeless feeling of losing a parent.

“I am _so_ sorry,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. Darcy hesitantly wrapped her arms around his midsection, not sure if she was crossing any boundaries, but was reassured when Loki enveloped her in a cool embrace, holding her tightly. His lips softly pressed into her forehead, making butterflies swirl in her tummy. She was smiling contently when they parted.

“Would you like to go on a walk with me?”

“Sure! Just let me change.” she replied enthusiastically.

“Change? But what you're wearing is fine.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Are you kidding?” She threw over her shoulder as she skipped out of the room. “You can't expect me to not change my clothes every opportunity I get when I have so many things that I've never seen before! And the best part―They're all mine!” His laughter followed her as she raced down the hall.

Twenty minutes later, Darcy returned, dressed in a willowy blue sundress that she felt accented her eyes perfectly in combination with the light makeup she'd also applied. The complimenting cleavage wasn't hurting, either, his eyes ever so slightly roaming over her new appearance. Darcy crossed the room to him, approving of his new attire as well; a pair of slim, dark wash jeans that fit him perfectly. _Do he got da booty? He do, he do._ She thought, not realizing that she'd licked her lips. This walk would be so much more pleasurable if she could walk a few paces behind and remain unabashedly fixated on his rear.

“Radiant, as always, Miss Lewis.” His eyes had darkened, and he didn't bother trying to hide his mischievous smile, all the while holding out his elbow. “Shall we?” Darcy looped their arms together and they headed for the door.

The walk to Central Park only took fifteen minutes. Darcy was glad to feel the sunshine on her face from the warm summer day. It was almost bizarre: walking around the park, enjoying the weather, and passing people by; everyone oblivious to the true identity of whom she accompanied: Loki, a true god among men. She slid her hand down his arm and linked her fingers in his, holding him a little tighter. He pulled her a little closer in response, seeming to enjoy their languid pace.

They maintained a good banter of small talk and meandered around the many paths before he led them off the paved walkway. It wasn't entirely easy to make good conversation, since there was so much that he couldn't tell her, but for some reason, talking to him wasn't as hard or as nerve-wracking as she had expected.

They came to an unpopulated, secluded clearing; and Darcy walked a few paces forward to take in the view of the sunshine sparkling off the small lake. “Excuse me, my dear lady, but would you care to join me?” When she turned around, she found Loki, regally reclining on a soft blanket, accompanied by a picnic basket, plates and wine glasses.

It was not exactly his first display of magic, but she was excited all the same. She nodded, a big grin on her face, and took his hand as she sat down. Darcy had a notion to ask what all he could do, but she didn't want him to feel like a common street magician. All in good time, she was sure he'd display more of his power.

The dinner he'd conjured was simple, but she constantly made shifty eyes at him, wanting to question how he'd procured such alimentary heaven. He could read the suspicion on her face and called her out on it.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I'm just not sure about you, yet.” He shrugged, taking a drag from his wine glass, the red wine staining his lips.

“So, Oh God of Mischief,” she began.

“Yes, Darcy?” When he made eye contact like that, with that devilish look in his eyes, the command of a deity behind them, her pulse raced and she felt feverish.

“Tell me something about me.”

“You know that I can't--”

“--I know, I know. But what about something mundane? I’m pretty sure boring info won't begin a butterfly effect and rip the very fabric of my timeline.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “What do you wish to know?”

“Well, what do you know about me?”

“I know everything, love.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he reiterated.

Darcy was silent for a moment, chewing her lip. “I don't know... start with something random.”

“Hmm...” He thought for a moment, his eyes far away in concentration. “On nights when it storms on Midgard and I am away on Asgard, to atone for my absence, you still cuddle your precious Sammy at night.” Sammy was the stuffed elephant that she'd received as a gift from her parents when she was a kid. She could picture his floppy ears, worn with age; his sunken neck, from being held tightly over the years; and his sparkling blue eyes, the paint having chipped over time. She grinned at the thought of him; he always smelled like childhood. That little nugget of information made her feel happy; certainly not paradox inducing information.

“What else?” she asked eagerly. Loki continued with trivial details until the sun was low in the sky.

“We should head back.” Darcy whined in opposition as he got up and looked down upon her, drinking in her comfort. She was lying supine on the blanket, hair fanned around her head, running a hand through the cool blades of grass next to her, completely content to stay all night if she could.

“One more? Pretty please?” she begged and stretched out her hand, wanting him to help her up.

In a display of his inhuman strength she was on her feet so fast, her stomach dropped and she had a bout of vertigo. He pulled their entwined hands to the small of his back, her body becoming flush against his, feeling the contour of every muscle. His other hand caressed down the length of her neck and her breath hitched. Loki brought his lips close to her ear and the proximity made her tremble. “You revel when I use my silver tongue to eloquently express my carnal desires for you--whether it be in the language of my people or yours; but, as time has come to prove, _over_ and _over_ again, you love it most when I take you in my Jotun form; the difference in body temperatures rendering you completely wanton for the release only I can deliver.”

And with that, Loki simply strode away, dematerializing their picnic setting, hands in his pockets, tongue in cheek; as if what he'd just said hadn't just left her body on fire, or her jaw on the ground with rapid, panted breaths coming from her parted lips. When she regained her composure, Darcy heatedly marched to catch up with him and kept her distance; arms crossed tightly around her chest, a few feet away, not even daring to look in his direction. But _oh,_ she could feel his pride at completely flustering her.

“Come now, Darcy,” his voice was saccharine and dripping with trouble. “It's not like you won't find out for yourself, eventually.”

“ _Loki,”_ she warned, but the god simply chuckled a heart stopping “e _heheheh_ ”. Darcy was doomed.

When they got back to her apartment, she walked straight to a bookshelf, grabbed something she recognized as on her “to-read” list and plopped on the couch, rightly ignoring him. Eventually, Loki joined her with a tome of his own, sitting in a nearby rocking chair; one of his long legs crossed over the other in a completely oblivious display of his power. Darcy inwardly groaned when she realized that she was reading more of his body than lines on the page: the latent strength in his wrists; the corded muscles wrapping his forearms; the pull of his T-shirt across his deliciously visible pectorals as he took each relaxed breath... She was growing weary from the constant distraction. _Come on, just a few more pages._ She forced herself to keep reading. And then, she got to a sex scene. Oh, the odds that she picked up erotica. Of course... “Their slick bodies writhing together in ecstasy.” _Nope._ She did _not_ need that. Loki was already right where he wanted to be, firmly rooted by sexual desire in the back of her mind, and she did not want to make things any harder on herself. She closed the book with a little more force than she had meant to apply, the sound echoing throughout the room, and she got up abruptly, informing him that she was going to bed.

“Rest well, Darcy,” he said with a knowing smile. _Smartass_ , she thought. She definitely wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. She shut the door behind her, a wordless warning that he was most definitely not welcome in her bed. He'd have to sleep on the couch, and she didn't give a damn if it wasn't long enough for him, either.

Darcy woke the next morning to full sun, and she felt like shit. Sure enough, she hardly slept all night, constantly twisting and turning, sometimes writhing in vexation. She was pretty certain that she'd literally tried every position to try and fall asleep and nothing was comfortable; even attempting the ole “face down, ass up” awkward position that little kids always seem to find comfy. She woke up countless times, entangled in the sheets and drowning in the heat of her body.

Stretching a little and wincing at the tension in her body, she stomped to the shower, turning it on the coldest it would go and hoped that the water would help reduce the bags under her eyes and rinse off dried sweat. Darcy was eager for the instant relief she felt on her fevered skin as she stepped under the spray. However, she wasn't prepared for the suddenly painful arousal, either; the icy water puckering her nipples, her lust-addled mind instantly bringing a recall to Loki's words from last night.

“Fuuuu” she cried and slapped the wall and tightly crossed her legs. “Goddammit.” _Fine._ _If this is how it's going to be..._ She slowly slid her fingers down her stomach...

Darcy joined Loki for breakfast again, and her mood hadn't really improved. He attempted at cordial conversation, but all she could do was give terse replies. She felt sorry. Well, _not really._ Her sour disposition was his fault, after all.

After breakfast, he invited her to join him in a round of grocery shopping. He wanted to make a special dinner for her tonight, and they needed to pick up supplies. Darcy conceded. And if she thought he seemed domestic before, he was downright humanized as he navigated the aisles of the local grocery. Instead of carrying all their purchases back to Stark Tower, or hailing a cab, Loki simply magicked their bags away so they could stop at a little bistro and grab lunch.

When they got back home, Loki gave strict orders that she was not to enter the kitchen. He wanted whatever he was making to be a surprise. She filled a large glass with ice water to be sure that she could handle the wait.

“So you're not making honey mustard chicken strips with hash-browns and a side of peanut M&Ms? Because those are some of my favorite things and all you seemed to really pick up at the store.”

“No, Darcy,” He laughed, eyes crinkling at what she said. “You were low on those things anyway―And it's not like I would make your last dinner something as simplistic and as tasteless as Midgardian food.”

“Hey, I happen to love _Midgardian_ food.” she interjected, mocking offense.

“Ah, because you’ve yet to have had anything better. No, love, _your_ meal is going to be fit for gods―better yet, fit for a _queen_ of the gods.” Loki was exhibiting so much excitement at making dinner for her; happiness was a good look for him. She left him to his devices, shaking her head with a smile on her face. She walked out of the kitchen, his last words almost not registering-- and when they did, her stomach lurched. He was making a meal “fit for a _Queen_ of _Gods”._ Did he just accidentally reveal something about the future? She didn't want to think about it.

Darcy changed into yoga pants and an athletic tank top she found amongst her clothes and headed to the living room. She instructed JARVIS to play her meditation playlist and unrolled her mat on the floor. She was eager to work out some of the kinks she'd felt in various places after her uncomfortable night sleeping. After a few hours of deep stretches, static and dynamic poses, and meditation, Darcy finally had a clear head and a pliable body. She got up, feeling much better, put away her mat, and headed towards the bathroom for some more relaxation. She was finally going to enjoy that tub.

Steam was rolling off the water when she toed into it, bringing a favorite book from the shelf with her. The scent of jasmine and something else soothed her nerves and she sighed into the relaxing atmosphere. The water was just up past her breasts, and she felt weightless in its volume.

She wasn't sure how long she had been reading, but when her eyes felt weary, she simply put the book on the side and looked out the window at the world around her. _This was the life_. And when her eyes became droopy from the calming aroma, she adjusted her head and neck on the little towel she brought with her and took a nap.

Darcy came to when she felt the water level shift around her. She had been enjoying her nap too much to open her eyes, but they sprang apart when she heard water splash onto the tile floor around her. She wasn't alone anymore.

“Loki?!” The Trickster God was sitting at the other end and she brought her knees to her chest, trying to cover herself as much as she could. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” She was most certainly surprised, but she was secretly really hoping that he was there for the reasons she wanted him to be there. The look he was giving her was absolutely predatory, and confirmed her suspicions.

“You see, pet, as a deity I can hear the prayers of others...” He slid a little closer to her. She couldn't retreat any farther, her only option being to hop out of the tub and completely expose herself to him. “And when I pick your voice out of the endless chatter, I listen carefully to every plea as you pleasure yourself, begging for me to bring you release.” Oh no. Her face had to have turned a completely unique shade of red now―probably one Crayola hadn't even had a goofy name for yet; _you caught me_ red _handed,_ maybe-- and she could feel the flush spread to her chest. He got closer still, and she was vaguely aware that his sex was within inches from her, but she was trying her hardest not to look. So she stared into his eyes, swallowing hard when she saw his pupils were blown, no trace of green to be found. He was so close. So very close. He gently took her chin in his hand and slid the other down to part her legs, his hand resting on her inner thigh while his thumb made tantalizing circles by her core. His lips met hers with a surprisingly soft intensity; once, twice, pulling back to read her expression. “I have come to answer your prayers, my little supplicant.” His ministrations were driving her crazy and somewhere in her lust-addled mind she recognized that he was sliding between her legs, positioning himself at her entrance. “And in doing so, I, Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos and Lies, King of Asgard, shall bestow upon you a most precious gift--” he was up against her now, ready to enter her at a moment's notice, feeling impossibly big. He traced kisses around her jaw and down her neck before whispering in her ear. “―A true reason to cry out 'Oh _God_ ' when you feel the rapture of climax course through your mortal body.” Suddenly, Loki changed into his Jotun form and drove into her, a blur of blue skin, hard ridges, and soft black hair; she lost her breath at the sensation. The room echoed with the sound of their unified moans and water splashing onto the floor.

Darcy was writhing beneath him, trying to meet him thrust for thrust, but she couldn't keep up; not with the slickness of the tub in combination with the relentless pace he had set. She was staring into the crimson of his eyes when he started to call her name. “ _Darcy...my sweet Darcy.”_

She could feel a mass of tension coil low in her body; she was on a precipice and he was unyielding. “Oh my God, Loki!” she moaned. She could feel it, she could feel it, so close.

“Yes. _Your_ god, Darcy.” She was about to explode... about to--

“Darcy?” She jolted awake, one calf was numb from hanging over the side of the tub, and her hands were between her legs. “Darcy, is everything alright?” Loki called from the other side of the door. She was so disoriented. _A fucking dream? Are you kidding me!?_ She groaned out loud, rolling her head along the edge of the tub. How long had she been in there? She could tell it was much later in the afternoon from the position of the sun; and the water had turned to room temperature, making her feel chilled.

“Yeah. I'll be out in a minute.” She raised her hands out of the bath and frowned. She hated pruney fingers. Absolutely hated them.

“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour, if you'd like to meet me in the kitchen when you're ready. And formal attire, if you would, please.”

“Sure thing, boss” she called to the door, eager to step out of the water, but feeling soreness in her muscles from her cramped nap. So much for yoga.

After applying makeup and feeling proud of her winged eyeliner, Darcy tamed her curls with the wand she found in the drawer, giving herself an Old Hollywood chic. She slipped into a floor-length dress that she saw in the walk-in; the sleek, black material held a simple elegance while the gemmed belt added a hint of flare. But, the real eye-catching feature was actually the shoulder sleeves, which added a dash of sex appeal, yet not enough to make her excessive cleavage seem trashy. She slipped on some sexy stilettos and matching earrings and made her way out to the kitchen. Loki was there when she arrived, waiting faithfully in regal Asgardian garb, and led her through a doorway she was pretty sure wasn’t there before.

It was almost like she'd stepped through jello, the thickness of the atmosphere changing around her. But on the other side...

“Is this... Asgard?” She asked, taking in the view around her and heading to the rails of the balcony overlooking a lush garden, ignoring the beautifully set.

“Not exactly,” he mentioned from behind her. Darcy turned to face him, but instantly craned her head back as she took in the overwhelming site of the palace, stretching high in the sky, the gold reflecting the setting sunlight. “I merely created a portal to a dimension where I've projected the palace and its immediate surroundings.”

Darcy turned and turned trying to take it all in. She could see the a rainbow bridge in the distance, assuming from Jane's descriptions, that it was the Bifrost. “It's so... beautiful.”

“Yes,” she turned to him, a smile on his face, looking nowhere else but at her. “Absolutely breathtaking.” Darcy felt her cheeks darken at his compliment.

Loki pushed her chair in when she sat down at the table; a breed of chivalry that most certainly was dead in her world. Dinner was served in courses and she had no idea what to do with herself. She was timid to try some of the strange foods, but with Loki's proud gaze, she didn't want to let him down. He watched her every reaction, laughing at the scrunched faces of the things she didn't find quite to her liking, and focusing on the curve of her lips, as she hummed in satisfaction for the things she did. He introduced the main course as one of his mother's favorite dishes, truly fit for a queen of the gods. Darcy couldn't really figure out what he was calling it, but it was some meat marinated in peppercorns and a complimentary sauce served over perfectly al dente pasta. It was absolutely, regally, divine.

After dessert, they headed to the balcony to take in the view. Loki stood a few paces away from her while Darcy marveled at the stars above, shining brightly in the night sky. She rested her elbows on the marble and twisted her hands, wanting to ask him a question that she'd thought of earlier, but was feeling like chickening out. He seemed to read her mind when he called her name.

“Hmm?” she replied.

“What are you thinking about?” Darcy shook her head, a pit forming in her stomach that she wasn't sure she was brave enough to conquer. “Come now,” he encouraged, brushing a strand of her hair over her shoulder, his hand gently caressing her bare skin as he did so. “Don't make me read your mind.”

“You can do that?” Darcy blanched and visibly tensed, what if he'd heard the things she was thinking earlier? How sexually frustrated he'd made her?

“No, no.” He laughed and she exhaled deep like she'd dodged a bullet. “And you are relieved at that information. I give you my word, it was only a jest.” The smirk on his face was irresistible. They were silent for a moment, soaking up the comfort of each other's presence.

“Do you love me?” Darcy finally asked. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

“Beyond reason.” His answer was without hesitation.

“Why?” She didn't mean for her voice to break, but none of this made sense to her. She kept her gaze far away. “I'm just a human. I'm nothing special. I...I--” she started stammering, but Loki's hands cupped her face and turned her towards him.

“You are gorgeous, strong, funny, and courageous. You aren't afraid to put me in my place, and you are always there as my voice of reason. What you are means nothing to me, but _who_ you are is everything. Never before has anyone sacrificed so much on my behalf. You have irrevocably changed me, Darcy Lewis; from the moment I met you thousands of years ago, until the moment your beautiful soul travels to Valhalla, I will never be the same. The only things that I will have to hold on to after you're gone are the memories of my Time with you, and to know that I was truly blessed by the Gods to be loved in return by someone who gave me everything they could give and more.”

Darcy's heart ached at his confession and her eyes had begun to water. Loki's tone of voice expressed sadness and fear that she couldn't place, and it was all mixed with an overwhelming happiness. The air between them had become charged, and for a moment, she wasn't sure what to do. But in the end, she crushed her lips onto his, and he responded to the fire in her body. He pressed her against the balcony railing, and she delighted in the feeling of him pressed into her curves.

Eventually, their fervor had her sitting on the railing with a Norse God between her legs. Their tongues were fighting for dominance over one another; something she doubted he would give up. Her nails buried deep into his back, trying to pull him closer as he caressed a hand up her thigh, the soft skin exposed from a lengthy slit in the material of the dress. When Darcy couldn't hold her breath any longer, she broke away, panting as she tried to fight for air. Loki paid no mind, ghosting his lips over her neck and breathing her in.

Instantly, he froze, the grip he'd had on her leg and his other hand at the small of her back grasped her tightly, becoming almost painful. “Oh, Darcy,” he moaned. “What have you gotten yourself into?” The look he gave her was the same predator's gaze from her bath-time sex dream. Darcy became nervous and began stuttering, confused at the sudden switch of character. He looked absolutely feral. Loki pressed into her, and she could feel his straining erection against her stomach. If she wasn't turned on before, Darcy's lady-bits had just received a flash flood during the height of a monsoon. The sensation made him moan as he closed his eyes, and blue ridges ghosted over his skin.

Loki leaned into her neck, breathing in more of her. His cool breath on her skin made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and a tingling sensation rushed over her skin, giving her goose bumps. He brushed his lips along the column of her neck, and his relentless grip on her leg changed from cold to cool, as if he was fighting for control.

“During your bath,” his strained voice began to whisper in her ear. “Did you happen to add the contents from an ornate vial found under the sink?”

Darcy had started to nod, afraid to answer him outright, but the next thing she knew, there was an unsettling feeling, like when you tip your chair over just a little too far, and you're going to fall over―and then her back hit something soft, and she recognized the room around her. Loki must have teleported them back to Stark Tower. He held his body over hers; slowly opening his eyes to reveal bright crimson under his long, dark lashes. _Oh boy_ , she thought, _I'm in trouble._

“Darcy,” Loki breathed her name, sounding pained and began a sensual assault on her body; his hand cupped her breast through her dress, and she moaned at the sensation. Her muscles sang as his powerful legs parted her thighs, and he settled his weight on her. He was suckling at her neck, but in the frenzied feeling of his sex pressed against hers, she grabbed his face and thrust her tongue in his mouth. Oh, she was so desperate and impatient for him to be where she ached for him, deep inside her. Darcy had never felt a need like this before; wild and untamed. She clawed at his clothes, managing to divest him of his vest and tunic, leaving him clad in only his pants. Darcy moaned at the ever changing temperature of his skin, cold and warm against her fevered flesh. She could see blue skin washing over him and fading away. When she traced her nails over the ridges... Loki's hand immediately cupped between her legs, a growl erupted from his lips that she could only attribute to the discovery that she wasn't wearing any panties. He slipped a finger inside of her and she reeled against him. Loki began to thrust with long strokes as he ground against the sheet below them, desperate for his own relief. Darcy demanded more and was rewarded with another skillful digit, crying out as he spread her wide. At some point, she realized that she had begun to chant his name, pleading for release, and lifting her hips to try and accomplish it herself. When his other hand gripped her hips and forced her in place, she cried out in frustration. But he began to lower his head, and she screwed her eyes shut praying for what would come next; there was a cool breeze over her sex, and all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

“Open your eyes.” It was a distant command, but she shook her head.

“Please, Loki. I need you. Now. Please.” She couldn't hear her voice begging for him, but she felt the words leave her lips.

“Look at me, Darcy.” Somehow, she heard him then, and when she looked down, her breath hitched. Loki was full-on Jotun, the blue skin cooling her fevered body and his red eyes glowing in the moonlight. As he began to stroke her clitoris with his icy, wet tongue, she screamed out, and he was unyielding, thrusting his fingers in time with his torturous mouth. Her body convulsed around him, but his eyes never left hers.

After multiple pleas for him to stop―she couldn't take anymore sensation―he finally pulled his fingers free of her quivering core, licking her essence from them while nuzzling the soft flesh of her thighs. Darcy was a languid puddle below him, but when he started climbing up her body again, she became frenzied once more. Her hands reached for the waist of his pants, desperately trying to find a way to free him and bury his length deep inside her.

It was almost like a light had switched off. Loki’s demeanor flipped back to the sincere gentleman who made her dinner in a replication of Asgard. His body was still changing between Jotun and Asgardian forms, but he seemed to have come to his senses. One of his hands clasped around hers, and he brought the delicate skin of her knuckles to his lips. Darcy whined when he lifted himself from her, and lied down on his side next to her, still holding her hand.

“Sorry, love.” He began; his other hand rubbed at his forehead. “But I distinctly remember our first time, and this isn’t it. I have no intentions of spoiling that experience for the two of us.” The smile he gave was soft and sweet, and he kept kissing her hand. Darcy felt a little deflated, but nodded in agreement.

“You mentioned something about a vial?” She turned towards him, and watched with interest as his body kept changing between his forms.

“Ah, yes…. That.” His grin had turned mischievous. “It was a gift from Lady Jane.” Loki fought his lips to try and bat down his smile, and she noticed that he’d started to blush. Darcy raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. “The vial contains a rather potent…aphrodisiac from Asgard.”

Darcy immediately snorted and covered her face. She tried her best to hide her laughter, but Loki joined in with her, and she couldn’t help it. “Woops. My bad.”

“No apology necessary.” Loki’s eyes sparkled with contentment and they stayed like that, looking into each other’s eyes until Darcy started to fall asleep.

Darcy wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but she absolutely didn't want to be awake. She was having the most wonderful dream, she couldn't really remember what it was about, but Loki was with her and kissing her into distraction. Damn. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she was complacent to just lay there and listen to the steady rhythm of Loki's breathing. Their hands were still entwined and she smiled at how well they fit together.

Her eyes popped open when the familiar tingling set in her body. “Loki,” she whispered, afraid to wake him, but afraid to leave. He didn't stir, and she felt the beginnings of the pull. “Loki,” a little louder this time, her voice wavering on the verge of tears.

“Darcy? What's wrong?”

“I don't want to go.” tears were falling silently down her cheeks, now and her grip tightened on his hand. “I want to stay with you.” She had never fought the pull of Time before, but she was holding on to the current time with desperation.

Loki smiled and brushed her tears away. “But that's the thing, love.” Loki enfolded her into a tight embrace. “You _are_ with me.” The last thing she felt was the cool press of his lips against hers.

Darcy found herself standing in the great room of her cabin with Jane. The astrophysicist was eating cereal at the breakfast bar, still in the pajamas that Darcy left her in. How much time had gone by?

“Darce?!” The spoon clanged on the table, as Jane rushed towards her. “You're finally back! I was getting worried! You were gone for a couple days.” The tiny brunette was so happy to see her, she tried to pick her up; and settled for spinning them around when she couldn't. When they parted from their hug, Jane's eyes widened. “Is everything okay?” Darcy realized that she must have horrible raccoon eyes, her mascara had probably run all over the place too, not to mention she was still in her dress from dinner the night before.

“Everything's fine.” Darcy said, not convincingly. Jane gave her a pointed look, and she sighed. “I went to the future.”

“You went to the future?” Darcy nodded, tears starting anew. “And what happened? What did you find out?”

Darcy cleared her throat before answering, and forced a smile on her face. “I was happy.”

***

Darcy showered and helped Jane in the lab the rest of the day. When they got back to their cabin, Jane mentioned that her laptop had chimed. She'd almost forgotten about the program that she'd been running, trying to find out exactly why she and Jane were in Tromso. She went over to the computer, and scanned through the information it retrieved.

After her visit to the future, she knew who was behind their temporary relocation... but the why? Her blood turned cold and she felt faint. _Trying to take over the world?_ She wanted to laugh; Pinky and The Brain, anyone? And she wanted to cry... the security footage from the top secret, underground facility in the Mojave desert... a chill ran down her spine. Darcy informed Jane of the discovery and then excused herself. She had so much energy coursing through her, she needed to get out, get away, clear her head.

The snow crunched under her boots with each step. It was late at night, but the midnight summer sun kept everything in a perpetual twilight, the snow glowing blue around her. She passed under the snow-logged pine trees and ambled around the forest. She had a destination in mind, but wasn't concerned on how she was going to get there. She just wanted to be alone. Her eyes watered a couple times, but the biting cold she could feel on the moisture kept her from letting them spill down her cheeks. She didn't need to get frost bite from tearcicles.

Her long coat and thermal pants kept her warm, and her knit hat fought the slight breeze. Darcy liked being out in the cold. She kept her hands tucked in and her nose was hidden behind her scarf, but the frosty air was soothing to her lungs. Crunch, crunch, crunch. She continued her languid place until she finally reached her destination: a lake in the valley between two mountains.

She walked up to the shore and sat down, ignoring the chill permeating her clothes. She stared at the lake for a while; the water was still as glass, and she could see the reflection of the sky in it. A few snowflakes had started to fall, she noticed. Not very many at first, but then enough snowflakes for a full shower floated down around her. It was her favorite kind of snowfall: big flakes lazily making their way down to the ground. Darcy lied back and let the crystals kiss her face, feeling a peace come over her. She could make out a few constellations, and the whirring silence of the cold was soothing.

She wasn't sure how long she had been there, but she knew that she had to get up. It wasn't that she felt the chill, that didn't bother her; but she was getting sleepy and knew how dangerous it would have been if she had completely nodded off. Before standing up, she let out a long sigh, and spread her arms and legs, making a snow angel with a big grin on her face. When she was back no her feet, she dusted herself off and looked at her handiwork, a smile on her face, before she turned to head back towards the cabin. She hoped Jane wasn't worried about her.

She took a few paces staring back at the lake, wanting to catch a last glimpse before leaving. When she turned back around, she saw him. He'd come out of the trees a mere twenty feet from where she was. At first, she didn't move, only quietly said his name. He didn't seem to want to come any closer to her. In fact, he seemed to want to hide from her. Save for his helmet, he was in his Asgardian regalia.

“Loki?” She said again, louder. She stepped towards him, shrinking the distance between them. As she got closer, she could see how sickly he looked, a little too small and malnourished to properly fill out his attire. His demeanor had changed entirely, as well. Instead of the self-serving prince with the boyish charm that she met a year ago, he now looked lethal, predatory, and something radiated from him. Power, maybe? Upon closer inspection, she could see old bruises fading, dark spots under his eyes.

“What did he do to you?” Darcy reached a gloved hand towards his face, still comfortable with the Loki of the future and completely forgetting about the mental state of the man in front of her. “Torture?”

One of his hands gently closed over hers and pulled it away. “What do you know?” he asked softly, and the green of his eyes seemed a little more innocent.

Darcy's stomach dropped when she remembered the _when_ of who she was talking to. She shook her head slowly. “Why are you here, Loki?”

“Freedom is life's great lie,” he whispered; the phrase sounding wrote, like a mantra he'd repeated over and over. Darcy wasn't sure how to respond. “I am here,” he began, “to rule as a benevolent god.” Darcy gulped. “And I would have you at my side.”

“That's not going to happen.” Nope. Fuck that. She took a couple steps back, shaking her head. He met her eyes with a hard stare, animosity returning to them, all innocence lost. “You're still a good person. You don't have to do this.”

“And what would you know of my nature? Whereas I have spent far more time in your company, you've hardly been in mine. You don't know me.” He wasn't quite yelling at her, but he'd raised his voice.

“I may not know who you are now, Loki, but I know who you'll become.” He cocked his head in confusion, drawing his brows tight. “I just spent the past three days falling in love with you.” She could feel that tears had finally unloosened from her lashes, and were trailing down her cheeks, but Darcy was smiling. It felt good to confess the way future Loki made her feel, to finally put a name to an emotion she was unfamiliar with.

“What?” he stepped closer to her. “You've been to the future? When?” Loki was talking over her, trying to get answers, but Darcy wasn't going to give anything away.

“You weren't power hungry or vengeful. You were happy, passionate―excited to be alive! You were the Loki that I've heard so much about in Thor's stories.

“You told me that I'm the only one who can save you, Loki, but that's the thing. You don't need saving. You just need to come to terms with yourself and who you are, don't let anyone else define you. You're the only one who can make decisions about the kind of person you want to be.”

Feeling emboldened, Darcy intertwined their fingers, and smiled that they felt the same as they had yesterday, a perfect fit. She sobered her expression and looked him square in the eyes. “I'm impatient to be with the real you again, Loki, but you can't expect me to wait around forever. We mortals just don't have that kind of Time.” She walked away from him, then, letting their hands fall at the growing distance. She wanted so badly to look back, but she didn't let herself. Either he was still there, or he wasn't; and she was afraid of both possibilities.

When she got back to the cabin, Darcy pulled on her favorite comfy pajamas and curled up on her bed, snuggling beneath the mountain of blankets and holding on tight to the black dress she'd come back with―it still smelled like him, a minty pine lingering on the fabric. She smiled through the sore pain of heartache. She held it close and cried herself to sleep, praying that he would do the right thing before it was too late.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I'm submitting a couple of those sexy Loki lines to Loki's Dirty Whispers.... soooo hotttttt. 
> 
> And I'm bumping up the rating!


	7. Yuanfen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A take on Thor TDW  
> Including blue creatures!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to write your headcanons of a movie into a story without it becoming a transcript of the movie.   
> Again, really sorry this took so long. I was rather hung up with Loki's last scene , so let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks again for all the favs/follows and reviews!! It means a lot to me!
> 
> Recommended Listening: Gone- Snow White and the Huntsman Soundtrack
> 
> PS: I'm going to assume that Loki perfected his projections of himself into full blown doubles from the knowledge he gained from the Tesseract.

  _Yuanfen_

_Mandarin for a binding force which eventually brings two people together in love._

* * *

 

            The gilded surroundings of the Bifrost came to view, as did its keeper... a lot less frozen than the last time Loki had seen him.  Behind Heimdall was a host of Einherjar to greet them, shackles and chains ready to burden his body.  Loki sighed, and stepped towards his jailers, ready to receive his sentencing.

            He couldn't begin to describe how infuriating it was to be paraded around Asgard, muzzle about his face, a collar around his neck, and chains draping his body.  A prince of Asgard now reduced to the status of a savage beast.  Despicable.  His jaw tightened with every step closer to the palace.

            The guards paused at the door to the throne room, removing the wretched muzzle from his mouth.  They were staring at him apprehensively, hands on the hilts of their swords, ready to strike as if they were afraid he would mutter an incantation and kill them all as soon as his tongue was free. 

            “Rest assured, if I'd wanted you dead, it would merely be as simple as a single thought.” He scoffed at them, and pushed through the doors.

            The walk up to the throne was lengthy, and Loki intently marched with heavy feet, every footfall jostled the chains around him and jingled them with each step.  He had a defiant stare in his gaze as he made his way to his father.

            “Loki,” His mother's concerned voice drifted from the side.

            “Hello, mother.  Have I made you proud?”  It wasn't his intention to give her attitude, but he had so much pent up rage towards his father, it just seemed to spill out of him.

            Frigga twisted her hands together; the nervous gesture was not lost.  “Please, don't make this worse,” she begged.

            “Define worse.”  Really, he couldn't imagine anything much worse than facing the man before him.  But he was doing this for Darcy; trying to right his wrongs and become the Loki from the future that she had seen.

            When Odin had ordered his mother away, Loki had set his jaw and stomped towards the throne, clicking his heels together to mock his stance at attention.

            “I really don't see what all the fuss is about.”

            “Do you not truly fear the gravity of your crimes?  Wherever you go there is war, ruin and death.”  Odin spat at him.

            Loki kept his composure.  “I went down to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent God-- just like you.”

            “We are not gods.  We are born, we live, we die; just as humans do.” 

            Loki thought a moment on the Allfather's words, noticing the pointed correlation between humans and Asgardians.  He thought of Darcy then, her lifeless body fading out of his arms.  Someday, he would join her in Valhalla; yet, the wait would be an eternity.

            “Give or take five-thousand years.”  Loki smirked smugly after his smart reply.

            “All this because Loki desires a throne...”

            “It is my birthright,” he defended.

            “Your _birthright_ was to _die_ as a child!  Cast out onto a frozen rock.  If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

            Of course.  Remorse for claiming the spoil of war that he had hoped to utilize in the future.  “If I am for the axe, then, for mercy's sake, just _swing_ it.”  Odin apparently had the gall to renege on claiming him as a son; Loki wondered if he would be able to just execute him like a commoner.  “It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just... I don't love them.”

            “Frigga is the only reason you are still alive and you will never see her again.  You will spend the rest of your days in the dungeon.”

            Loki was pulled back by the guards, trying to fight the tears springing to his eyes.  So, Odin did want him dead, then?  The proclamation weighed heavy in his heart.  The bastard really knew how to swing a low blow.

            “And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?”

            “Thor must undo the damage you have done and bring order to the Nine Realms; and then, yes, he will be king.”  The guards flanked him then, forcibly turning him and dragging him out of the chamber and to the dungeons.

            He was unceremoniously locked into his cell, the white lights were blinding, but no matter; he still had full range of his power if only confined to these walls—a comfort of which he was almost grateful.  Loki began pacing around the small room, contemplating his new situation.

            When he saw Darcy last, she claimed to have spent Time with a future version of himself...  So Odin was going to eat his words; Loki was eventually going to get out of this cramped space.  He paused in the middle of a step as a thought crossed his mind.  When he finally was free of imprisonment, how much Time would he and Darcy have together?  She still looked much younger than his first encounter with her, but how much Time would go by until he was finally able to be at her side?  Would it be too late?  Would he lose her forever just as he gained his freedom?

            Loki didn't sleep at all that night.  Instead, he focused his energy on how he was going to break free from his confinement and spend as much Time as he could with the mortal waiting for him on Midgard.

***

            Darcy walked with her face pointed towards the sun as she milled about the neighborhood sipping on her large cup of tea.  She enjoyed a walk every morning before heading to the lab, relishing the brisk air against her cheeks and the warm liquid sliding down her throat.  She used this Time to reflect on the choices she'd made in her life... and lately, she thought of the lanky blonde she'd “hired” as her very own intern/assistant. 

            After the attack on New York, the two women had seen neither hide nor hair of their Norse Gods.  And after finding out that the God of Thunder had made a visit to Midgard without stealing a singular moment with her, Jane had become a wreck.  She'd reverted into a puppy-like state, getting excited at the prospect of new information, wagging her little tail, waiting for him to come home.  Eventually, the excitement turned to impatience, making mornings with the love-struck astrophysicist tense.  And after a year had well passed, Jane had given up entirely on the blonde behemoth, resorting to pitying herself and crying all day.

            Darcy never told Jane the details about her foray into the future, but remembering the intimate picture of herself and Loki during Thor and Jane's coronation, Darcy couldn't let the woman simply lose hope.  She tried to be encouraging; “Just be patient,” she'd say.  “He'll come back for you, just don't give up.”  She wasn't about to spill the beans on knowing for a fact that Jane and Thor were going to spend eternity together, reigning over the universe in a glorious gilded palace; but it was hard to see her friend so lost in the fray. 

            To be honest, Darcy was a hypocrite.  She knew her own future rested with Loki, but with their tumultuous history, she wanted to try and carve her own fate for once—to entertain the idea of her own freewill. 

            And that was how she'd found herself at the mercy of a British accent and a crooked smile.

            Darcy met Ian a few weeks ago in the cafe she frequented.  He'd bumped into her as she turned around from the counter, warm beverage in hand, resulting in soaking the front of her coat.  He apologized sincerely, immediately buying her a replacement drink and fetching napkins to help dab the liquid out of the fabric.  It was the only day that she settled on staying inside the establishment; not wanting to brave the cold winter weather until her coat had dried.  So Darcy sat next to the mildly attractive youth, growing fonder of him the longer they talked. 

            She found herself so swept up in the moment; she was almost embarrassed that she'd asked if he'd like to work with her.  He jumped at the chance to work under the legendary Dr. Foster and Darcy used his new intern status to justify her wanting to be around him.   She kept their association clandestine, of course, mostly having him help her with work she would bring back to her apartment, not yet wanting to explain things to Jane.  Eventually, Darcy circled back to her flat, gathering her keys and work purse before heading out.

            Darcy was greeted by Jane's mom at the door.  The middle-aged woman welcomed her inside and then headed back into the recesses of the lodging to continue with her day.  Darcy made her way over to the make-shift lab set up in a spare room.  Dropping her bag next to her desk, she was surprised to find that Jane was nowhere in sight.  Maybe, for once, the work-a-holic astrophysicist was going to finally get more than a few hours of sleep.

            Darcy was pounding back her second cup of coffee and thinking about food a half an hour later, when a beeping sound pervaded the beat of her music flowing from her ear buds.  She pulled out the headphones and milled about the room, in search of the alarming equipment.  When she found the offender, she looked at the readings and felt a jolt in her stomach.  The little TI-83/palm pilot hybrid was chirping away, display going haywire on the screen.  She refused to let herself entertain the idea that the readings were the same as when Earth had its first Asgardian encounter; deciding rather, that the equipment must be malfunctioning.  So she executed the “malfunctioning equipment protocol” and gave the little device a few good whacks against the hard wood of her desk.  When that didn't seem to work, the feeling that the seemingly improbable reason of a gravitational anomaly due to the return of an Asgardian crept through her mind.  She decided to consult Jane.

            When Darcy found her bed empty after a series of unanswered knocks against her bedroom door, Darcy sought out Jane's mom.  After getting the info she needed, she called Ian, telling him they were getting sent out on a field assignment, and that she'd swing by and pick him up before going to get Jane, who, apparently, was on a date.  Ian slinked into the backseat, and Darcy raced off to the fancy restaurant where she was told she'd find her boss.  Parking around the block, Darcy instructed Ian to wait there, and she headed inside.  Oh, this was going to be good.

            Using her American flare for impatience and assertiveness, Darcy bypassed the maître d', leaving his feathers ruffled and his mouth slack jawed as she marched by with lava flowing through her veins.  Darcy might have given up on living the rest of her days with a Trickster God currently being punished for his multiple crimes against humanity, but she'd be damned if she'd stand by while Jane threw away being Queen of Asgard for a petty mortal.  And when did she start thinking like Loki?

            Darcy halted at the side of the table, looking at the disgustingly cute couple before her.  Would it be possible that Jane could be happy with someone else?  Darcy pondered the question for all of two seconds before making her decision.  Nope-- engage party crashing behavior immediately.

            “Hi can we get some wine, please?” the man turned and asked her.  She almost snorted right there, but the surprise on Jane's face was enough to silence her.

            “Sure, I'd love some!”  There was a slight frostiness to her tone.  Did she look like a waitress?  Really?

            “Richard, this is Darcy,” Jane interjected.  Darcy pantomimed a “cute” and gave her friend a thumbs up, hoping that her presence would put off the seemingly would-be suitor for her friend.  “What are you doing here?”  Jane's voice was dripping with accusation.

            Okay.  _Alright_.  We're going to take _that_ tone, are we?  Well, Darcy was going to really help her girl out.  She turned around, found a chair and dragged it slowly across the floor, metal legs scraping as loud as possible.  The grin of triumph almost faded from her face when she realized that Loki would probably be proud of what she was doing.  She counted at least twenty other patrons had turned their head in her direction as she sat down at the table.  _Richard_ apparently was a little discomfited at her ease of sliding in between them.

            “So, I show up to work at the lab-slash-your-mom's-house, fully expecting you to be moping around in your pajamas eating ice cream and obsessing about _you know who_ ,” she coughed, grabbing a knife and buttering the piece of bread she'd lifted from the basket.  _Helloooo tension!_   “But you're not!  You're wearing lady clothes.  You even showered, didn't you?  You smell good!”  She hoped that talking with food in her mouth would really turn him off.  Throwing table manners out the window always seemed to work in situations like these.

            Jane didn't seem to understand Darcy's point to all of her encouragement on being with Thor.  “Is there a point to all this?  Cause there really needs to be a point to all this.”

            “Right.”  Darcy dropped the bread and brushed the crumbs off her hands before reaching into her pocket.  “You know all that scientific equipment you don't look at anymore?  You might want to start looking at it again.  This is the reason we came all the way out here.”  She shoved the beeping device into Jane's hands.

            “It's malfunctioning.”

            “That's what I said.”  Jane frowned and initiated the standard malfunctioning equipment protocol.  She thwacked the electronic device against the table, and the noise rang throughout the sophisticatedly quiet room.  “That's what I did!”  Darcy continued, popping more bread into her mouth.  “I thought you'd do something a little more _scientific_.”

            “I'm sure it's nothing.”  Jane smiled at her date, handing the device back to Darcy.  Oh no, she wasn't going to get off that easy.

            “Doesn't look like nothing,” Darcy insisted.  “Kinda looks like the readings Erik was rambling about—Our friend, Erik,” she turned to Richard, “kinda went bananaballs.”  Upping the ante on being an awkward third wheel was proving to be a successful cockblock.

            “He's not interested.” Jane interrupted.

            “I'm interested,” he countered.

            Feeling between a rock and a hard place, Jane bit out “I'm not interested.  It's time for you to go now.”

            “Okay.”  Darcy gave a sweet smile that didn't come close to reaching her eyes, scraped her chair back over to where she got it, letting her lips curl in to a smirk and feeling like an insufferable little shit, and strode to the exit.

            She left the restaurant feeling victorious and sure enough, no more than five minutes later, Jane was rounding the corner and hopping in to the passenger's seat.

            “Aaand I hate you,” she greeted.

            “What?  I said he was cute!”

            “Just shut up and drive.”  Darcy threw the rest of the bread on the dash and sped down the road.

            When Intern-cum-personal-GPS shouted his directions, Darcy thought Jane was going to pee her pants.  After a quick explanation, which Jane didn't technically reprimand Darcy for her decision, the two were introduced and they'd reached their destination.

            Darcy parked the car haphazardly in the abandoned shipyard, and everyone piled out.  “Come on!  This is exciting!”  She was trying to boost team morale.  “Look!  The intern is excited!”

            “Ian.”  His passive voice was almost lost in the wind.

            “Do you want the phase-meter?” she asked Jane.

            “No.”

            “Bring the phase-meter—the toaster-looking thing.” she instructed Ian.

            “I know what the phase-meter is,” he replied.

            Jane's science-senses must have been tingling, because she began to wander around the yard aimlessly.  When she got too far away for Darcy wanting to make a dignified attempt at getting her attention, she went with option number two.  She could hear hip-hop ringing in the distance as soon as she hit send.

            “How do I change the ringtone on this?” Darcy laughed.  She wasn't about to tell.

            “An astrophysicist with three degrees should be able to change her own ringtone.”

            “Why are you calling me?”

            “I didn't want to shout.  Intern says it's this way.”

            “Ian. My name's Ian.” he stammered next to her.  Really, she didn't know why she never referred to him by name.  Okay, well, maybe she did.  If she called him by his name... _Ian_ , she would probably have to stop lying to herself and admit that the only reason she wanted to keep him around was her attraction to him. 

            After being scared shitless by some kids and then being amazed at the crazy portals they found, Darcy was excited.  “I want to throw something.  Jane, give me your shoe!” she called, but the petite brunette was worlds away.

            “I haven't seen readings like these since...since...”  She was speechless.

            “New Mexico?” Darcy finished for her.

            “Don't touch anything!” she yelled before darting away.

            Come on.  Really?  Like she was going to follow the rules when she could chuck things into a portal and have them fall infinity style like in the video game.  Darcy, Ian, and the kids were all caught up in the fun, chucking in whatever they could find, and watching in awe as the objects fell, guessing whether things would come back or disappear entirely.  They were having good time, at least, until Darcy noticed a familiar Rubik's cube falling and re-falling from the sky.  And then, it didn't.

            “Were those the car keys?”  She asked.  Dammit.  It had taken her forever to figure out that stupid-ass cube, and now she had nothing to show for it.  Not to mention she had no idea on how to hot-wire a car.  Shit.  Well, the disappearing act had officially lost its appeal.  Darcy huffed and sat on the stairs, waiting for Jane to get back so she could break the news of their new hitchhiker status.

            When a half an hour went by and Jane hadn't come back, Darcy went looking for her.  She, Ian and the kids all split up and scoured the compound; the echoes of their voices rang off the dilapidated concrete.  Minutes turned into hours and Darcy began to panic, calling both Erik and Jane's cells and leaving frantic messages.  Finally, Darcy gave up, biting the bullet and calling the police.

 

***

            “JANE!” Darcy screamed when she saw her friend.  “Where the _hell_ were you?” she asked running over to her.

            “Tell me you didn't call the police,” was Jane's reply.  They bickered for a moment over the involvement of the authorities.

            “Jane! You were gone for _five_ hours!”  That seemed to shut the astrophysicist up.

            “What?”

            They hadn't noticed the sudden thunderstorm, but after a moment, they realized that the rain wasn't falling in a vast circle around them.  Jane stuck her hand out into the spray.

            “That's weird.”  She looked around and spotted Thor, running off to greet him. 

            “Typical,” Darcy bemoaned when the chilly precipitation suddenly started falling on her.  Apparently the circle of dryness was only there to protect Jane.

            Watching the two reunite was almost sickening to Darcy.  Usually, she was the one all for public displays of affection-- which apparently included slapping, but hey, whatever floats their boat...  She just couldn't help but feel a little left out, seeing Thor come back for Jane when Loki never came to her—at least not with obvious, untainted love and devotion that Thor was displaying.  Darcy recognized her cue when the two were just about to kiss.  Hey, she was a cockblock earlier today, might as well continue to carry on her mantle.  She interrupted the two and confronted Thor about the rain, which peculiarly enough, stopped suddenly as if someone had just simply turned it off. 

            “Um, we're kind of in the middle of something here.”  Jane was not happy about Darcy's timing.

            “Um, I'm pretty sure we're getting arrested,” Darcy replied snarkily.

            Jane excused herself and Darcy was left in the company of the towering God of Thunder.  She didn't want things to be awkward, but so many things had happened since the last time she saw him... Things that involved Loki.  Did he know about them?  More importantly, what happened to Loki two years ago when he and Thor left after New York got destroyed?  Was he okay?  She wanted to ask, but at the same time, she didn't. 

            “Look at you, still all muscly and everything.  How's space?”  Yep, way to diffuse the weird atmosphere, there, Lewis.  The big blonde just smiled down at her.

            “Space is fine.”          

            When she was about to find the courage to ask about Thor's mischievous little brother, an explosion burst throughout the shipyard.  Thor's hulking mass covered Darcy from the blast, but everything happened so fast.  The next thing she knew, Thor had grabbed Jane and they disappeared in a roaring rainbow bridge.  “Holy shit!” she exclaimed, stepping into the circle of burned pavement, staring at the sky in amazement.

 

***

            It was an old habit, but Loki paced around the confines of his cell, noting out of the corner of his eye the numerous prisoners from various realms being escorted deeper into the dungeons. 

            “Odin continues to bring me new friends.  How thoughtful,” he sneers.

            “The books I sent, do they not interest you?”  Frigga redirected the conversation.

            “Is that how I am to while away eternity?  Reading?”  Incredible.  Let everyone forget the monstrous prince of Asgard while he rots under the palace.

            “I have done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Loki,” his mother replied softly.

            “Have you?  Does Odin share your concern?  Does Thor?  It must be so inconvenient, them asking after me day and night.”  So much Time had passed and the only person to even think about him was his mother.  Just because he’d pushed the other two away didn’t mean that he wanted them to forget about him—it was a cry for help, for their understanding. 

            “You know full well it was your actions that brought you here.”  Apparently, Frigga was getting tired of him as well.

            “My actions?” he shot back.  “I was merely giving truth to the lie that I'd been fed my entire life—that I was born to be a king.”  For a moment, one of Frigga’s knowing-looks passed over her, and she camouflaged it with indignation.  What had she seen?

            “A king?” she asked.  “A true king admits his faults.  What of the lives you took on Earth?”

            “A mere handful compared to the number that Odin has taken himself.”

            “Your father--”

            “--HE'S NOT MY FATHER!”           

            “Then am I not your mother?”  Loki was taken aback by her question.  He didn't mean it like that... it just... well there was no turning back now.

            “You're not.”  He replied calmly, tears in his eyes.    

            Loki's words visibly wounded her, and she scoffed at how easy his declaration rolled from his tongue.  “Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.”  She held out her hands for him, but he realized the futility of the gesture.  He could feel guilt written all over his face, and he hoped that she hadn't taken his words to heart.  He passed his hands through hers and she faded away in a green shimmer.

            Tired of pacing, and emotionally exhausted from the spat with his mother, Loki laid down on his bed, tossing a small cup in the air to sort through his thoughts.  Up.  Down.  Up and down.  The reverie of thought in his repetitive motion was interrupted by the sound of pounding and screams from somewhere else in the dungeon.  When the lights dimmed, he paused and placed the cup on a nearby table.  The alarm began to ring, and prisoners, not soldiers rushed past his cell.  He got up to watch the chaos unfold.  A large creature, the likes of which he'd never seen before, and certainly not something from any of the inhabited nine realms, approached him.  Was this the moment he would finally be freed?  He tried not to let any emotions betray his stoic stature as the wretched thing approached him, but he couldn't help but wonder if this would be finally be the time when he would return to Darcy Lewis.  But, the creature turned away, apparently changing his mind.  It was almost as if, from the point of view of another monster, Loki was the true fiend that needed to be locked away.  Loki felt himself deflate a little.  _No matter,_ he thought.  _Let the wretch wreak havoc upon Asgard until his last breath._   “You might want to take the stairs to the left,” he encouraged.

            Sometime later, after the alarm had silenced and the murmur of commotion had died down, he immersed himself between the pages of one of the books his mother brought.  He saw the guard approach from his peripheral vision, but he wasn't about to grace the man with his full attention.  It wasn't until the words finally registered that he looked up from page, words blurring as his vision swirled.  It was peculiar, he did and did not hear the news that the guard had come to bear; sounds were drowned out by an overbearing silence and the beating of his heart.  He said nothing to the guard, afraid that he would lose his composure, so he simply turned his head and nodded at him in thanks.  When the guard disappeared, he let himself fall apart.

 

***

            He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in his cell, surrounded by the ruin of his possessions. He didn't deserve sleep, he'd decided in his self-deprecating state.  He was at a loss for words—for thoughts.  Life held no meaning to him now.  His head rested against the wall behind him, eyes blurring from the intensity of the light above, and tears streamed down his face.  _He_ led the creature straight to his beloved mother.  Loki had screamed himself hoarse at that realization, and now, all he could do was mourn quietly in the destroyed cell; praying for both a long life so that he may truly atone for his crimes, punishing himself for the rest of his days; and also hoping that death would take him soon, for if there was one person who deserved to die, it was him—let the universe rid itself of one less monster.  He had just enough strength to keep up the outward illusion that all was well to passersby.

              He was in a catatonic state when he heard the soft call of his name.  His eyes had burned out of focus and he slowly blinked to moisten them.  He must be dreaming, he rationed, surely no one would dare visit the black prince now.  Yet the being that stood before him was beautiful beyond reason.  Slowly, she came into view; lush lips forming in the shape of his name, but the call was far away.  As a soft hand cradled his face, his vision had restored and he found he was able to cry again, his voice raspy as he wept.

            “Darcy?”  He looked into her eyes for just a moment; they looked silver, but she was crying too, so he couldn't be sure.  He turned away and sobbed even harder as she enveloped him in a warm embrace.

            “Shhh.... It's okay.”  She held him tighter and traced circles over his back with her open hand.

            “I killed her!” He could hardly talk, it seemed like his heart was going to lodge in his throat.  “It was _my_ fault.”  He didn't return her hug, leaving his arms limp at his sides; deciding he was unworthy of her affection as well.

            “No, Loki. There was nothing you could have done.”  He shook his head against the crook of her neck.  “He would have found Jane because of the Aether, regardless.  And she knew what was coming.  There was nothing you could have done.”

            “Why are you here?”  He felt so defeated and he most certainly did not deserve the company of the woman before him.

            “Because I love you,” was her quick reply.  “And there is somewhere you need to be.”  With a familiar lurch in his stomach, they were gone.

            In the next instant, they found themselves on cliffs jutting out from the Sea of Space.  His heart sank when he realized Darcy's purpose for bringing him there.  In the distance, he could see the shores of Asgard and all its people who came to pay their respects to their beloved queen. 

            Loki choked a little when he saw the small boat in the distance.  He thought he was going to fall to his knees with grief, but a small hand firmly entwined with his and he felt a little stronger.  A blazing arrow rose in the distance, and he watched as it met its mark; the skiff was engulfed by many tongues of fire.  Then, thousands upon thousands of arrows followed, each igniting their own rafts; one for each year of his mother's life.  He could feel the tears stream down his face as the fleet drew ever closer, but the weight of Darcy curling around his arm kept him grounded.  Centered.  Focused.  The small vessel approached the edge of the sea, and the sound of Odin's staff rung out over the void.  As the boat fell from the realm, his mother's soul drifted to Valhalla.  Shortly thereafter, the denizens of Asgard released pieces of their own souls; orbs of their memories of their queen to follow her in to the heavens.  Loki amassed a rather large one, filling it with the deepest sentiment of love that he could muster out of his emotionally broken body; praying that his mother would forgive him in the afterlife.

            Loki was watching his orb drift away when he felt magic beside him.  He was amazed to find that Darcy had formed her own orb—an ability of which he thought Midgardians were incapable.  He was about to ask her how she came about such magic when she spoke. 

            “I spent a lot of time with your mom,” she started; tears delicately rolling down her cheeks.  “She was lying on a bed of apple blossoms from the trees of Idun, wearing a beautiful amber gown from Odin, and holding a sword Thor had given her as a gift.”  Loki looked at her in bewilderment.  “I helped get her ready,” Darcy answered his unspoken question.  “And I wanted to make sure she had the necklace that you'd made her, but when I couldn't find it, I realized that she was already wearing it-- I don't think she ever took it off.”

            Loki pulled the small woman into his arms, his eyes burning again.  “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.  “I find that I will forever be unable to express the exact depths of my gratitude, Darcy Lewis.”

            Darcy pressed her lips to his cheek.  “We have to get you back...”

            “Can we stay but a moment longer?”  There was desperation in his voice.  “It's just,” he began.  “It's been some Time,” _since I'd seen you last_ , he finished in his head.   He didn't want to outright say that he missed her over the past two years, because he wasn't sure as to which Darcy he was speaking.  Loki took a small step back to appraise her in the starlight.  His breath hitched.  It was the first time he'd actually looked at her since she appeared in his cell. 

            The woman before him seemed to be much more mature than the one he'd met in the desert, and he wondered how much Time she had left.  The gown she wore was elegant, regal even; a silken sapphire fabric dripping with decorative crystals, complementing the azure of her irises perfectly.  She looked like the beautiful embodiment of winter.  As his gaze continued to drink her in, he noticed one detail that he'd missed entirely.  Resting atop the dark curls on her head was a crown made from a very rare gemstone; it looked like diamond ice crystals.  If he remembered correctly, it was the most precious and rare jewel of Jotunheim.  He smiled at the discovery.  It only seemed fitting that he would bestow upon her a crown to represent the beauty of his true nature, when she was the only person to truthfully accept every facet of who he was.

            “You make a beautiful queen.” His thoughts lightened, and he did not feel as lost.

            “Thank you.”  A deep blush began to stain her cheeks.  “You have to go back,” Darcy reminded him again after a pregnant pause. 

            “I don't.”  He challenged her playfully.

            “I'm pretty sure that _I_ outrank you, oh Prince of Asgard, and I say that you _are_ going back.”

            “I suppose I must obey a direct command from my queen.”  He had missed their banter.  “But first, I would very much like to kiss you.”

            “Then I must politely decline.”  His eyes narrowed at her rebuttal.

            “And why would you do such a thing?”

            “Because kissing you does something to me, and I don't think you're supposed to find that out just yet.”  Her soft lips turned up in a coy smile.

            “I am no blushing virgin, Darcy.  I am familiar with intimacy.”  He stepped closer.

            “I'm going to quote something you said to me before—And I really hate to use you against yourself, but... 'I distinctly remember our first time, and this isn't it.'”

            “Is that so?”   Loki pulled her close and she gasped as he pressed her mouth to his, pulling on her lower lip.  His eyes sprung open as lightning danced across the sky.  Had the blue pools of her irises turned silver, or was it simply a reflection of the lightning in the sky?  He was rather perplexed, but didn't get any time to examine them further, because Darcy had taken them back to his cell.  “Look at me,” he commanded softly.  Darcy panted for a moment, trying to regain her composure before she obeyed him.  When his green eyes met hers, he looked into their familiar blue depths.... but he was so sure that he'd seen...

            “You should try to get some sleep.  You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

            A fear crept into him, then.  “Can you stay with me?” he begged.  Although he didn't feel worthy of her tenderness, he was terrified of her leaving, afraid he might never see her again—an irrational concern, of course, because he knew their future was entwined.  “I just don't want to be alone right now.”  Darcy nodded, and he leaned his head against her shoulder.  The last thing he remembered before drifting asleep was lying down with his head in her lap; the soothing caress of her hands in his hair; the sound of her voice quietly humming through the silence.

            Loki woke up on the floor sometime later.  The sound of his own voice resonated through his slumber at Thor's approach.  He dropped the illusion at his brother's command and leaned against the wall, feeling as defeated on the inside as he must look on the outside.  Loki had failed them. 

            He was impressed with Thor's plan; surprised that he wasn't just going to smash his way through everything—he'd actually had it all thought out.  And he was caught off guard at Thor's trick, the metal of the handcuffs biting around his wrists.  Finally, the great oaf seemed to be learning how to play dirty; a lesson he'd never heeded before, even though Loki had reminded him time again that others would not be so honorable.

            When he introduced himself to Jane Foster, he wasn't expecting her right hook, but the punch, along with her attitude was very reminiscent of his own Midgardian woman.  Darcy must surely be rubbing off on Lady Jane.  While the others were distracted with the brouhaha of the oncoming guards, Loki continued to smile down at the petite female.  She was likely with Darcy moments before Thor brought her to Asgard.  He was tempted to inquire about the feisty assistant, but they were pulled into the fray of battle.

            After their haphazard landing in Svarftalfheim and all seemed well, Thor doted on his woman by covering her with a blanket.  A pang of jealousy pierced through Loki's heart.  If only he could have more Time with Darcy...

            “What I could do with the power that flows through those veins.” He muttered.

            “It would consume you.”  Thor was probably right.

            “She's holding up alright,” Loki countered.  “For now.”

            “She's strong in ways you'd never even know.”  Yes, he supposed that Midgardians had to be, given the short breath of life they had to live.

            “Say goodbye.”  There was a hint of regret dripping in his tone.

            “Not this day.”

            “This day, the next, 100 years, it's nothing! It's a heartbeat—you'll never be ready.”  _I never was, and I never will be_ , he added to himself.  “The only love you prize will be snatched from you.”  _Just like Darcy is to be snatched from me.  It's inevitable._

            “And will that satisfy you?!” Thor shouted, clearly not willing to accept the consequences of loving a mortal.

            “Satisfaction is not in my nature,” was his tired reply.  No.  He will never be satisfied.  Not with the short amount of Time he knows he'll only have with her.  And not during the eternity of mourning and loneliness he'll have without her. 

            “Surrender's not in mine,” Thor bit back, and Loki hoped for his brother's sake, he would never give up on a happy life with the fragile mortal lying in the bottom of the boat.

            Before they knew it, they were executing the last stages of their plan.  After following Thor's tumbling body down the mountainside, and chopping off his hand, Loki announced himself.

            “Maleketh!  I am Loki of Jotunheim and I bring you a gift.”  He threw Jane with enough flare to make it look painful, but his magic broke the hard impacts of her fall.  “I only ask for one thing in return,” he continued.  “A good seat from which to watch Asgard burn.” His voice dripped with poison and conviction.   The monster from the dungeon spoke to his leader, apparently vouching for his villainy.  He smirked at the interaction.

            When Thor gave the cue, Loki jumped to cover Jane.  He hovered over her as shards of broken Aether reunite around them.   Maleketh absorbed the Aether as if it was a flock of birds diving into a single pond and the power that radiated from his body was palpable.  The murderous fiend threw a black hole grenade at the group, and Loki tossed Jane out of the way.   He hesitated for a split second when the portal burst open.  He tried to jump away a moment too late, and ended up ensnared in its pull.  The air was knocked from his lungs as his brother's hulking mass broke the singularity's tether.

            Loki palmed his blades as he measured up the squadron of Dark Elves around him.  It was a pity that there were only five, he would have much rather preferred a challenge.  He dispatched of them quickly, delighting in the fight.  It was like stretching an old muscle and relishing in the aching familiarity of use.  He could feel his blade slip beneath the skin, muscle, cartilage and arteries of his last adversary's throat; his jaw set with glorious purpose as he scanned the horizon for his brother and the brute.

            Loki made a careful, clandestine approach, staying deep within the shadows.  Thor was surprisingly being pummeled into the ground, but just before the beast was about to deliver a finishing blow, he cast a double and skewered the fiend with a pike.  He wasn't surprised the damn thing was still standing, but he most certainly wasn't expecting the creature's deadly embrace.  Loki collapsed to his knees and clutched his core.  He was definitely going to be bruised through and through for the next few weeks.  His breaths were great and gasping as he felt the double's life slipping away, but the real pain wasn't from the gaping hole in his middle; no, the real pain was a burning in his heart from his brother's tender exchange.

            The jagged rocks behind him were digging into his back as he rested against them, but his mind was too far away to care.  Thor would have him named a hero?  After all Loki had done to him-- how he'd inadvertently killed their mother?  His surmounting guilt made it difficult to accept Thor's forgiveness.  Loki just couldn't understand how his brother could still love him after everything.  He thought back to the conversation he'd had with his mother-- the very last he would ever have.   He inquired if Odin or Thor even cared about him.  Were he not so blinded by his rage, he could have recognized the avoidance of her answer.  She knew he wouldn't have believed her had she told the truth.  A sad pit formed in his stomach as he wished he could have changed their conversation; tell her how much he loved her instead of spitting that she was not his mother.

            He was nearly healed when the Einherjar came to the surface, easily shifting into the familiar figure of the guard.  When he reached them, he informed them of the fate of the Fallen Prince, and helped transport the body.  When they crossed through the Bifrost, Heimdall's gaze was fixed upon the young prince's limp and ashen remains.  Loki was grateful the gatekeeper was so transfixed.  The grief in his golden eyes distracted him from the additional guard that came back with the troop. 

            As they marched down the vast halls, Loki noticed a distinct emptiness in the palace.  His throat tightened as he realized how completely his mother's presence had filled Asgard with vitality.  She was everywhere, her spirit ever present.  Every step became increasingly heavier as he approached spaces in their home where he knew he could always find her.  Eventually, he broke away from the squadron and sought the Allfather.

            The King of the Nine Realms looked withered and worn; he'd aged more in the last few days than Loki had seen in thousands of years.  He stood in front of the throne, silent; and his bearing held none of the strength he knew his father possessed.  Loki was almost loathe to interrupt his rumination.  When he finally announced his own death, Odin's posture held strong, but his voice betrayed his true state.

            “Walk with me.”  The command was hardly a whisper, not the booming voice of authority Loki was used to.

            The journey was silent as they made their way through the palace and Loki was content to keep it that way, taking in Odin's body language.  The Allfather moved as if every step pained him; he was carefully concealing a grimace under a tight façade of control.  It wasn't until they reached the royal suite that he noticed the man had started to sway, his reserves of strength depleting as he neared his massive bed. 

            Loki stopped at the entryway, feeling hollow on the inside seeing his parents' room.  It seemed so empty without his mother to radiate warmth and love into the atmosphere.  He fought back tears as Odin gingerly sat on the bed.  “Einarr, come,” came his soft, but firm command.  Loki crossed the room and knelt at the king's feet.  “I grow weary of the pain of loss.  I feel that the time for rest has come.”  He paused. 

            “My lord?” Loki questioned.

            “The measure of a king is his family, his legacy...  The better half of my soul has traveled through the gates of Valhalla and awaits me there; and now to hear that my youngest son has suffered the same fate?”  His gaze was far away as the ill tidings weighed heavily upon him.  “He was destined for greatness, if only he hadn't strayed to malevolent misadventures...  Thor was right.  I am an old man and a fool.”  A silent tear trickled down the valleys of his withered cheeks and Loki's ribcage constricted around his heart.  The Allfather gingerly reclined onto his bed and pulled his silken, gold sheets around him.  “You must send for Thor,” he began as a field of gilded magic rose over him.  Odin stretched out and grasped the cool hand of his guard.  Loki's heart skipped a beat as he met the gaze of the man before him.  “If my son is up to the task, and if he is worthy, then the power of Gungnir is his to lead the Nine Realms.”  The weary man gave a sad smile before surrendering to the lilting call of Odinsleep.

            Loki dropped the illusion and shifted back into his Aesir form.  His knuckles blanched as he held Odin's hand in an iron grip and fought back the sobs that threatened to retch out of his throat.  “I'm sorry, Father.”  He stood up and blinked away the tears sparkling in his eyes.  He waved his hand and the Allfather's clothes changed out of his regal attire into a more comfortable sleeping gown.  Loki bent down and gently pulled the silken sheets around Odin's sleeping form before stepping away.  He could still feel the effect Odin's last words had on his laden heart.

 

***

            “Loki is dead,” he'd said. 

            Darcy was in the bathroom, trying to fight back nausea and keep herself from hyperventilating.  No.  That can't be right.  She'd seen Loki in the future, but Thor had been there with him on Svarftalfheim and the somber look on his face told her everything she needed to know.  She'd turned the water on in the shower as a preventive measure; something to help drown out the sound of her cries if she gave in to tears. 

            There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a British voice asking if she was alright and Darcy answered that she'd be right out. She shakily stood from her spot on the floor; she'd been leaning against the bathtub, and faced herself in the mirror.  If Loki was faking his death to get out of punishment for the things he'd done wrong, then she wasn't going to wait around for him to decide when he'd like to grow up.  So she splashed some water on her face and headed back to the living room.

            After the height of the Dark Elf battle in Greenwich, Darcy wasn't ashamed that she'd kissed Ian.  Okay, maybe she was a little ashamed at her body's response to kissing him... the way his lips felt pressed against hers, and the weight of his body in her hands...  He had saved her life, after all.  And it wasn't like Loki was ever around.  She'd made up her mind.  Darcy Lewis lost her patience in the god she loved because he couldn't be bothered to grow up and actually pursue her.  Time and fate be damned, she was going to live her life to the fullest from now on.

***

            Loki was expecting this moment, when Thor would come to him-- well, when Thor would confront their father.  However, he wasn't expecting Thor's rejection of the throne. 

            “Loki, for all his grave imbalance understood rule as I know I never will,” he'd said.  He contemplated Thor's words for a minute. 

            “Is this my son I hear, or the woman he loves?”

            “When you speak, do I not hear mother's voice?”  Loki could feel his lips turn down.  How right Thor was... for both himself and their father.  Loki embodied more of his mother's character than he'd realized.

            “One son who wanted the throne too much; another who will not take it.  Is this to be my legacy?”

            “Loki died with honor,” Thor started, a sad lilt in his tone that made Loki's lips turn up just a smidge.  “I shall try to live the same; is that not legacy enough?”  Thor's open question was followed by an offering of his precious Mjölnir; an exhibition of his brother's sincerity—complete willingness to sacrifice his divinity to be with the woman he loved. 

            “It belongs to you, if you are worthy of it.”  Loki replied.  Even if he were to grant his brother mortality, the God of Mischief and Lies would not be capable of lifting the mighty hammer.

            Loki reminisced on when he believed his brother to be unfit for rule.  Not so long ago, the mighty God of Thunder was quick to anger, and quicker to judge—willing to dispatch entire species if their ways did not adhere to his.  The man who knelt before him had aged and matured in just a few short years; he'd become someone Loki admired... all because of the perspective and knowledge gained by a seemingly simple Midgardian woman who had ensnared him.  And who better to empathize with that exact situation than the very man who had been enraptured by one woman over the course of millennia?  “If I were proud of the man my son had become, even that I could not say.  It would speak only from my heart.”  He'd spoken the words through the mask of his father, but he smiled with love for his brother.

            “Thank you, father,” was Thor's beaming reply. 

            His illusion faded at his brother's retreating form.  “No, thank you,” Loki confessed, settling comfortably into the gilded throne beneath him.

***

            The dimly lit sky felt almost like home as she followed the telltale flocks of disgruntled birds peppering the somber clouds.  The shipyard was just as desolate as the first time she'd been there, and so she walked slowly; reminiscing about the landscape, enjoying the warm Midgardian winter air on her skin.  It had been such a long Time... A familiar roar rang out in the distance, and a great crash vibrated through her feet.  Darcy smiled at the tickling sensation and found her quarry.

            The great beast was nudging his nose against the limp body of a raven, and she vaguely thought of a dog that’d finally caught a car, but just didn't know what to do with it.  The young creature used his tusk to scoot the poor bird around the pavement; its wings flapped around in lazy disarray from his ministrations.  The pup was completely oblivious to his audience.  When she drew near, Darcy shifted into her Jotun form; the blue skin and ridges sliding over her in a lover’s embrace, and she hummed at the familiarity.   She called out a name, and the great beast's gaze rose from his plaything; his head tilted to the side in confusion, but his massive tail began to thump up and down idly in contentment at her presence.  She raised a hand and stroked the icy, stony skin of his nose, and the beast closed his eyes at her touch.  “Let's get you home,” she whispered.

            Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning flashed silver in her eyes.  When the brilliance of light had faded, the two were gone and the smell of ozone was left in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big chapter down!   
> I can't promise chapter length is going to stay at this kind of behemoth level since I'm now away from the movies and in my own free territory, but I will do what I can! Hopefully, that means I'll be able to update sooner, too, since I won't have to keep going back and referencing lines from the films.


	8. L'Esprit de l'Escalier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a long wait! (Please don't hate me!) I ended up getting mono after posting my last chapter and did nothing but sleep for a month, which set me super behind in school and work. Good news is, I'm done with school, and now a certified paramedic. I'm still working crazy hours, but I tend to write at work anyway. I really hope this enormous chapter helps assuage some of the frustration I'm sure you guys have experienced these last few months. There's lots of Easter eggs, sass, and possibly smut ;D Also, as a bonus, I've planned on an additional chapter! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone that has commented, subscribed or left kudos! You mean so much to me.
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta, so please point out any mistakes to me if you catch them! I work nights as an EMT and sometimes have false memories... so things don't always come out right.  
> \------  
> Recommended Listening: Ow-- Stephan Moccio

_L’esprit de l’escalier_

_Usually translated as “staircase wit,” it is the act of thinking of a clever comeback when it is too late to deliver it._

* * *

 

His footfalls echoed around him as he made his way down the steps. It had seemed like a long time had passed since he’d been here last. Every major moment in his life seemed to happen in the weapons vault. He remembered being hand in hand with his father, next to Thor, as he told them they both were destined to be kings... He remembered the magic he’d used to smuggle the Jotuns here during Thor’s coronation... The moment he found out about his true lineage... When he instructed the Destroyer to kill his brother...

And now. Now he was here to reclaim the relic of his people. The light from the Casket of Ancient Winters cast a soft glow against his features. As his fingers came around the treasure, he felt the still foreign shift of his Jotun form. The cube in his hands held so much power. He stood there for a moment, thinking of everything he could do with it.

With a last nod to his father, he disappeared.

***

Ian’s breaths were hot and loud at her ear as he finished. She remained quiet, panting a little herself. The stubble of his beard scratched at the skin of her forehead as he kissed her affectionately. “I love you, Darcy,” he’d whispered. She gave a contented sigh that hopefully conveyed that she felt the same.

She was grateful when Ian’s lumbering frame rolled from her, and she was finally free to step into the en suite. When she walked back towards the bed, she could see the smile on his face, drinking in her naked figure. He folded back the sheets for her so she could climb in next to him, and when she was settled, she dug a leg out from under the oppressiveness of the covers; exposing it to the cool night air. Ian had always been too hot to comfortably sleep next to him. His arm snaked around her abdomen and pulled her close. It was rare for Darcy to actually fall asleep cuddled so close, and tonight was no exception.

It must have been close to half an hour after Ian’s breaths had reached a languid pace against her neck that he finally turned over. He’d also never held her an entire night, and she was glad. Finally unconfined, she drifted to sleep.

Darcy bolted awake at the feeling of her moving lips, about to call out a name. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and tried to calm herself down. Damn. It always happened right before the best part of the dream. Over the past year and a half, she had dreamt of him more than once, always to wake just before she could call out his name. Darcy’s eyes slid guiltily over to Ian’s form, the early morning giving the room just enough light to make the shadows of his face hazy. She felt worse that it always seemed to happen when she was lying next to him.

After scrubbing her face with her hands, Darcy glanced at the clock. It was 6:35AM, and she had a few hours before she had to leave for her flight back to the States. This vacation was long overdue. After Jane had saved London, Tony Stark had fully funded her research so she could have better access to materials; and as a consequence, she’d moved to New York to live and work at Stark Tower. That was nearly eight months ago, and Darcy was content to stay behind in her little apartment in London. She and Ian had become serious; he stayed at her place now more than his parents’ flat. And she found work at a little bookstore around the corner from the park--perfect for her morning walks with tea. But after being in company of gods and geniuses for so long, her life had started to seem mundane. She’d begun to crave excitement and adventure; even if it meant that a little bit of danger was involved. Darcy was excited about going home. First she was attending Adrien’s wedding to his gorgeous fiancée, Katherine, in their little hometown in Vermont. She was happy he was going to marry a local girl. And then, she was going to fly to Colorado with Tom and his wife, Laurenne, to visit with them and her precious niece, Corinna. Lastly, before heading back to the UK, she was going to make a stop to see Jane in New York.

Darcy got up with a big sigh and stretched on her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she turned on the shower. Might as well start getting ready.

She relished the feel of the warm water on her skin, washing away the sweat from her dream. But as she sudsed up her body, her nerves were still on fire. By the time she'd rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, she'd made a decision. Her long flight would be much more comfortable if she was more relaxed. Slowly, she guided her right hand down her abdomen, slipping her fingers through the cleft of her core and expertly stroking her clitoris with familiarity. She sighed at the pleasure that jolted through her body and her head fell limp against the tile wall. Darcy relived the moments of her dream. Green eyes met hers in a predatory gaze from between her thighs, and a wicked smile held an unspoken promise of pleasure as he began to slide his body up hers. The contrast between the two of them was heady. His cool skin was nothing if not hardened from millenia of battle and training; and the way his weight pressed into her body... She grasped at his shoulders to pull him closer, silently begging for him to sink in. It didn't take long before her body was on the verge of release, quietly chanting his name-- a two-syllabled prayer.

The water suddenly turned to ice. She didn't realize she'd been in for that long; but damn, if it wasn't exactly what she needed. Her eyes screwed shut, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down to refrain from screaming out. When the shivers of pleasure wore off, her body recoiled from the frigid spray. Darcy darted out of the way and turned off the water, giggling a little as she did so.

After getting dressed, Darcy made a small breakfast of toast and jam with fresh fruits, poured herself a cup of tea and headed out to the small balcony off the living room. When she drank the remainder of her Earl Grey, she padded over to the edge of the railing, surveying the city below as she withdrew the last cigarette from its pack and placed it between her lips; a bad habit she picked up while being abroad. After her first drag, she pulled it out of her mouth and stared long and hard at her life choices. This... this would be the first of a long list of changes she would bring about herself. She heard Ian step out then, his long arms sliding around her frame from behind. He gave her a “good morning”, and she felt a smile creep across her lips, one that didn't reach her eyes. That list of changes was going to be lengthy, indeed.

***

Darcy always loved to fly. She had her forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window as she watched the world fade away below her. When there were no more lights to gauge her distance, she slumped back into her chair with a sigh. People were so miniscule in the grand scheme of things.

She surveyed the populace of the passengers around her as she dug for her iPod and headphones. There was only one wailing baby in her section, and she was grateful for that. Across the aisle from her, was a frat boy that propped his foot up on the armrest of the chair in front of him, his black gym sock falling down to his ankle while his sandal rested on the floor. He met Darcy’s gaze with a saucy grin and wink. She snorted, “You’re way out of your league.” Then, there was a young couple next to her; the dark haired husband was looking at his wife with absolute devotion while the young woman was rubbing a tiny bump in her stomach. They were talking quietly about names. She could feel the love between the two of them, and she wondered, for a moment, if she would ever have those experiences; falling completely in love, getting married, starting a family… Sitting on the plane, she felt alone and a wave of sadness washed over her.

Ian was a wonderful man. She couldn’t deny that, and he really tried so hard to be everything that she needed…. But deep down, he wasn't what she wanted. The things that once drew her in, his charm and accent, had started to lose their luster. Ian was always too polite; to a point it almost nauseated her. She thought back to the beginning of their friendship, he was always apologizing for needless things—he would apologize when Darcy would deliberately not address him by name, for example. And his accent now seemed to just grind her gears. She couldn’t put a finger on it, it just didn’t sound _right_. Syllables weren’t stressed the way they were supposed to be. Not to say that she wanted him to sound American, good God, no… but his accent was just _off_. And if the things that first attracted her were starting to lose their appeal, then the sex should keep her, right? Meh. Sex with Ian was mediocre and never thrilling—he was more of a missionary kind of guy, not very adventurous. Darcy was starting to feel bored. And when she really thought hard about him for a moment, his blonde hair and brown eyes just really didn’t attract her the way they did at first. She never had the kind of visceral reaction with Ian that she had with Loki. And that was a problem.

Loki, Loki, Loki. She repeated to herself, blowing hair out of her face. She hadn't seen him in close to two years. How much time had passed for him? Had he finally gotten off his six-legged high horse and started to change? She was tired of fantasizing about him. Darcy would give anything to just simply go back... go back to the future where he was everything she could have ever wanted. With a hollow ache in the bottom of her stomach, she closed her eyes. Maybe she could sleep until the future. What was one year? People slept that long all the time. Okay, so they were in comas, but it was definitely possible! She slept uneasily for the rest of the flight, and unfortunately woke up when the wheels touched down on the runway.

***

Adrien's wedding ceremony brought tears to her eyes. The raw emotion between he and Katherine was palpable during their exchange of vows. She was praying to the gods that the tears standing on the corners of her eyes weren't going to spill over and ruin her make-up.

The wedding party was small; Tom was best man, and one of Adrien's best friends from college, Sam, was the only other groomsman. On the ladies' side, it was just Darcy, and the bride's cousin, Lisa. With their intimate size, no expense was spared. Darcy hesitated at drinking the champagne provided, worried about her one drink rule; but with all the toasting and the dinner afterward, she'd quickly found herself past her limit. By the time the rest of the guests were invited to the dance floor, Darcy understood the true depths of her inebriation; her steps didn't seem as sure, and the room had a lilt to it when she walked towards the group of party-goers.

“What's one night of drunken debauchery?” she thought to herself as she grabbed another flute. Soon enough, the dance music changed from family fun fare, to something more nefarious-- a clubbier feel. And even quicker than she could do the Cupid Shuffle, Darcy found herself grinding against a dark haired stranger; drink in one hand, his head in the other, keeping his lips connected to hers.

The blasting sound of a familiar hip hop ring tone pierced her slumber. Shit, she had a flight to catch, but after glancing at the clock, she had just enough time to get dressed and head out the door. She gave succinct answers to her brother Tom's questions; yes she was going to be on the plane, don't worry. She squeezed her temples between her fingers to try and dissipate the raging migraine she had. Why in the hell did it have to be so bright? Why did people do this to themselves? Throwing the phone back on the bed, she realized her state of undress. Okay. She was naked in bed. This wouldn't be the first time she'd slept in her birthday suit. She'd read somewhere online that snoozing in the buff helped improve one's self-esteem... But Darcy barely contained a scream when a hand snaked around her backside. She jumped off the mattress, taking the top-sheet to cover herself, and got a good look at the person attached to that hand.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she whispered to herself. There in all his naked glory was none other than Sam, her brother's best friend, seemingly just as clothed as she was. He'd been making googly eyes at her all night. Darcy covered her eyes with her hands and smacked her face a couple times before looking at the sleeping man again. This time, she spied a haphazardly thrown condom by the trashcan. Oh, goddamnit. At least they used protection. Darcy got dressed and gathered her things as quietly as possible before slipping out of the hotel room. She counted her blessings at not time-traveling while intoxicated. That's why she'd had her one drink rule, after all. She was lucky.

She nearly smoked half a pack of cigarettes before she'd even boarded her flight to Colorado. So much for quitting. When she met up with her brother and his wife at the gate, she could tell he was taking in her appearance: sunglasses, wild hair, and frumpy clothes. Before she knew it, he was handing her a bottle of water and a couple of Alka-Seltzers.

***

A week later, Darcy was getting on her next flight to New York. She could feel the remnants of Laurenne's _bises_ on her cheeks, and she breathed in a big sigh of relief when she buckled herself into the seat.

It was a relaxing stay with her brother and Laurenne. Darcy was glad to feel domestic, helping them around the house and learning how to cook amazing French cuisine, like escargots and crêpes, from Laurenne. During the week, Laurenne would work on translations from her home-office and Darcy was delighted at the invaluable time she got to spend with her niece. There was nothing that made her ovaries more sore than listening to the little Corinne speaking French to her _maman_ , or being called _Tatie Cici._ Whenever Darcy had babies, absolutely none of them would speak English first.

The flight was lengthy, but Darcy stretched her legs as she made her way out of the gate and towards the baggage claim. Soon enough, she was being lifted from the ground by the small, but mighty, arms of her former boss. By way of her appearance, the petite brunette had slipped comfortably right back into slouchy American attire.

Jane led Darcy past the security checks and back to the residential elevator of Stark tower. Darcy felt her neck crane this way and that as she tried to take everything in. And Jane had to elbow her more than once for making flirtatious passes at random former SHIELD agents. Eventually, they made it to Jane's luxurious apartment where Darcy made herself at home; grabbing a welcoming gift of Ben and Jerry's from the freezer and tossing Jane her own tub. They sat together on the couch and began to catch up. So many things had happened since SHIELD collapsed. Stark Tower had become the new hive and Tony had assumed mantle of Queen Bee.

The next day, Darcy reveled in the bout of nostalgia that was assisting Jane Foster in her lab.

“Dang, Boss Lady, they've really got you set up.” Darcy said as she wandered through the tables of various expensive equipment.

Jane mumbled something in agreement, and then went back to searching for one of her various notebooks.

“What are you looking for?” Darcy finally asked.

When Jane gave the description of the notebook and it's contents, Darcy asked for her badge. “What? Why?” the astrophysicist replied.

“Because you left it on the nightstand in my room-- probably while you were haphazardly trying to clear all your other research stuff off of the bed from just throwing it in there. And I know this, because I didn't work for you for years without getting to know your habits; and also because I'm nosy and I wanted to read up on how your progress was coming along.” Darcy smiled smugly as she held out her hand in waiting. “I'll go get the notebook while you start doing whatever you need to do in here. I'll be back before you know it.”

Darcy's first stop was most definitely Jane's apartment a few floors down; and her last stop was most certainly the lab—but where she went in between? Well... she just may have gotten herself a little lost.

“Jarvis,” Darcy asked in a sing song voice while padding her way out of the apartment. “Please send me directions to the gym.”

“I am afraid that the gym is limited to residents and their escorted guests, only,” was the AI's reply.

“Jane is going to meet me there. So could you send me those directions- it's almost impossible to get her to exercise.”

“Certainly, Miss Lewis,” came his British lilt as her phone chimed. Darcy had a sly grin as she made her way out.

The air that wafted from the gym doors when they opened seemed a little stale, but definitely held potential. She'd checked her appearance in the elevator mirrors about a hundred times before she even stepped onto the floor, so she knew she was rocking her curves in black leggings, a long purple sweater and tall boots. As she strolled in through the facility, she took stock of who was in attendance. A couple former SHEILD lackies were duking it out on the mats; she smirked at them, but walked on by. Her movement in the mirrors by the weight lifting area caught the gaze of a couple other guys. She couldn't tell who they were from her promenade; the spotter was a hulking blonde and the guy under the bar bell was African American.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” came a voice from the blonde, in a faded Brooklyn accent. Darcy sucked in a breath as she recognized Captain America.

She coyly looked behind her as she pantomimed “Who? Me?”. She blushed when the two stepped next to her, in all of their muscle-shirted, swollen glory.

Darcy was brought out of the fog of her thoughts when a resounding “Miss” graced her ears. “Oh, hey-- hiii.” She started. “I was just looking for Jane, actually. Have you seen her?”

“Dr. Foster?” the friend stated. He was smirking at her from the side. “I don't think I've ever seen her in the gym, before. Did you try her lab?”

“Yeah, you know, I was just there. She had me run down to her apartment to get a notebook, and now I can't find her.”

“What's your name? I don't think I've ever seen you before, and you clearly don't have your own badge.” Very authoritative, Mr. Rogers. Although, Darcy supposed that suspicion was warranted, granted everything that had happened with SHEILD and HYRDA over the past year.

“Darcy Lewis,” she stuck her hand out. “Former intern to Dr. Foster, and her professional friend.”

“Sam Wilson,” the friend replied first, cutting off Steve in the process; taking Darcy's hand and pressing it to his lips like a gallant knight. Darcy gave him a goofy smile when she was returned her appendage, and placed it in the hands of Man in the Stars and Stripes.

“Steve Rogers,” the good Captain replied with a sturdy grip. Very American of him.

“Ah, Captain America. I should have known.” Steve blushed at her comment, and slightly bowed his head. “You certainly did a number on my man, Loki, a few years back. Nice job. He'd needed some sense knocked into him.”

“You know Loki?” Steve suddenly became serious.

“Well, I don't _know him-_ know him, per se. But he and I go wayyy back.” Darcy stopped talking when a red head walked up to stand next to the two boys.

“Long time, no see, Lewis.”

“Hey Nat, what's up? Still looking killer as always, I see. I love the new do.” Natasha was dressed in a black tank-top and yoga tights, probably coming in for a workout.

“I was tired of managing curls all the time, so I thought I'd give this a try. What brings you back Stateside?”

Darcy recounted a very brief description of her vacation. “So, I'm going to be here for a a few more days, and I want some excitement. Love Jane to death, but the boss lady hardly knows how to have a good time. We should all go out for dinner and drinks to celebrate the amazing experience that is my company.” Darcy winked at Sam, while smiling smugly at the rest of the group.

“I know how to throw a party,” an easily distinguished voice rang from across the room. They turned to see none other than Tony Stark. He walked forward and took the badge dangling in Darcy's loose grip. “Hmm... Dr. Foster, I didn't know you'd undergone extensive cosmetic surgery. Curvacious is a fantastic look for you.” He'd started pantomiming and hour-glass shape in front of her. “Wait a second,” he said, plucking the frames from Darcy's face, examining the lenses. “You don't need glasses and aren't enough of a hipster for fashion frames. Jarvis, locate Dr. Jane Foster.” The AI informed them of her presence working diligently in her lab. “Predictable,” Iron Man quipped. “Then you must be the famous Miss Lewis; smart mouthed, Dr. Foster-wrangling, hacker extraordinaire?” All Darcy could do was nod with her mouth hanging open. “Right. How about we close that,” he pushed her chin back to the rest of her skull, “and we step into my office.” His right arm came around her lower back and he led out of the room.

“Now, what day are you leaving?” He asked.

“Sunday morning,” she answered in a shaky voice.

He winked at her before turning back to the rest of the group. “Rooftop party on Saturday night!”

***

“Darcy, where in the _hell_ have you been?!” Jane shouted when she finally strolled into the lab. “I have been waiting forever for that notebook to continue my work!” Darcy handed her the notebook and grinned stupidly at her friend.

“Well, I went down to your place, grabbed the notebook, but got turned around on my way back and accidentally walked into the gym. Where I was accosted by none other than Captain America and his swarthy friend, Sam. And then Natasha showed up... but then! Oh. My. God. Jane! You wouldn't believe what happened next!”

“Okay. Shoot.” Jane said, crossing her arms.

“Tony Stark walked in and escorted me to his office. He offered me a job, Jane!”

“Doing what?” Jane's question was a little pointed, and it rubbed Darcy the wrong way just a little bit.

“He was impressed with my ability to hack SHIELD while we were in Norway, and wants me to do media control for him and the Avengers!”

“Wow, Darce! That's amazing!”

“Oh no! It gets better! And you're going to love this part!” Jane's excitement was almost bubbling to the surface. If Darcy had to guess, the petite scientist was crossing her toes and hoping that she was thinking the right thing for whatever Darcy was about to say next. “When I'm not bogged down with damage control, I'm going to help you on the side!” At this, Jane gripped her friend in a fierce hug. They bounced up and down, squealing at the exciting news.

***

Darcy checked her messages as she made her way off the terminal. There were a couple from Tony reaffirming that her new apartment in Stark Tower would be ready when she came back; that there were going to be people coming over to help her pack up; and flight details for her way back later that night. The last message was from Ian, explaining he wouldn't be able to pick her up from the airport because his grandfather was in the hospital, but he would meet her at her flat later that day. Good. Darcy thought to herself. She was getting to avoid a very awkward car ride home.

It wasn't really a sense of _home_ when she walked in. She hadn't noticed it before, but walking through the wooden door, it just felt like a place she stayed. She walked over to the rest of her luggage and began packing up all of her essentials. SHIELD agents would be over later to finish packing for her and get her things on a cargo plane while she took the Stark Industries' private jet back across the Atlantic later that night. Ian keyed into the apartment when she was packing up her bathroom.

“Darcy?” she heard him call. She hollered her location, and met his confused expression as she packed tampons into her suitcase. “What's going on?”

“Hey,” she began, treading lightly. “So, I got a job at Stark Tower working for Tony Start himself. I'm moving back to the States.”

“What?” he was lost.

“Yeah, um, Tony came to me while I was visiting Jane. I start next week.”

“That's—that's fantastic!” Ian said, pulling her into a hug. “How soon can I come visit you? Should I look into getting a visa? I could transfer to school in New York.” He was rambling with excitement at all the possibilities, but Darcy knew she needed to spell things out for him.

“Actually, I think it's time to close this chapter in my book, Ian.” When he tilted his head in confusion, she elaborated. “I can't do a long-distance relationship. We had a good run, let's leave it at that.”

“I don't believe this. Everything seemed fine before you left. Come on, Darce. I love you. Don't do this. Don't do this to _us_.” The broken tone of his voice resonated right to her tear ducts. She didn't want to hurt him, but there was no way they could continue on as a couple.

“Ian,” she began quietly, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks. “There's someone else.” She was embarrassed to say it, but in all honesty, it was the truth. She was heartbroken at her own words, but if she wanted a future with Loki, whenever he decided to come back around... it wasn't fair to stay involved in someone she didn't want to spend her life with.

“You know what?” he said, backing towards the door. “All those times that you'd told me I deserved someone better?” There was a knock on the door behind him. “You were right. I should have listened.” His last words stung as he brushed past the slew of agents waiting in the hallway. But, he was right.

Darcy would be lying if she said she didn't cry from heartbreak or guilt at all on the flight back to New York. But, she would also be lying if she said she didn't sink to the floor and cry with a smile on her face as soon as she keyed into her new, but familiar, apartment at Start Tower; a huge sense of relief washing over her.

***

It was a couple months before she'd gotten the news. She was about three miles into her run when the text came up on her smart watch. Darcy had turned to running to combat the cravings of smoking cigarettes. And for two months, she'd been smoke free. She had just been relishing the cool morning air of the late summer when Jarvis had informed her over the music playing in her ear buds that she needed to return back at once; there was an important emergency meeting taking place.

She was pulling her headphones out of her ears, and delighting in the chill of the air conditioning as it permeated her sweat glistened skin, when she walked into the conference room; not surprised in the slightest that she was the last person there and that they had pretty much already started.

“Nice duds.” The praise was from Rogers upon noticing his familiar shield printed on her tank top.

“Shucks, Steve, you make me feel like the cat's meow!” Darcy replied, feeling almost a little immodest in front of the man in her running tights, which were more like a second skin, and her tank top that left next to nothing to the imagination.

“So nice of you to finally join us, Darce,” quipped Tony from the head of the table, tossing her an Iron Man water bottle. Tony wasn't about to miss out on an opportunity to turn a profit with the world's greatest superheroes, but who could blame him?

“Hey, you called me while I was still two miles out. I came back here as fast as I could. It's not like I can _fly_.” Darcy drank greedily from the bottle.

“All you had to do, was give me a ring, babe. I would have picked you up in a heartbeat.”

“Riiight,” she returned. “Because I don't have a hard enough job keeping the rest of you guys out of the news, let's just go ahead and throw Iron Man swooping down to fly _little old me_ out of Central Park and add to the tabloid's disgusting speculation that you're unfaithful to Pep.” Tony cocked an eyebrow at that, before smirking a little himself. “If you give any reporters anything that results in cameras being stuck in my face 24/7, I'm going to need a raise. I like my life of anonymity.”

“Fair enough.”

Darcy blew a stray piece of her bangs out of her face while glancing around the room at the other members. All of the avengers were present and while they seemed to have enjoyed her exchange, there was a somber look lingering just under the surface of their expressions. She did a double take at the blond god of Thunder. “Thor! Looking suave!” she commented, noting his usual royal garb. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. “Alright guys, what's important enough to interrupt my run?”

“I believe the correct phrasing would be more of a _'who'_ rather than a _what._ And it appears that ' _who'_ would be me.” Her hair stood on end at his voice. Her heart leapt to her throat. Her stomach bottomed out.

“You know what? I think I'm going to need to sit down for this.” Darcy said. Without looking at the presence behind her, she crossed to the other side of the table and took the empty seat between Dr. Banner and Natasha. She put a polite smile on her face and stared down at the table, refusing to look up at him. When she thought about it, there was a certain irony in sitting between the Hulk and the Black Widow. They were two of the very few people to have bested Loki; one physically, the other psychologically. They almost gave her a sense of security.

The meeting had dragged on, but Darcy hardly noticed; she was desperately trying to school her emotions. When she did finally look up at him, from his position down on the other end of the table, she hoped that no one could hear the pounding of her heart; or if they could, hopefully they would just chalk it up to coming in from a run. She crossed and uncrossed her legs constantly; shaking her foot up and down to try and stave off her nerves-- a habit she found annoying as fuck.

It wasn't that she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on around her. She just had so many other things on her mind to fully devote all of her mental capacity to the conversation at hand. So, she just sat and absorbed things here and there. Loki was not dead. _Obviously._ He was here to atone for his “ _past indiscretions”,_ as he'd put them. Darcy may or may not have snorted at that. She wasn't really sure. She was concentrating on the chipping paint on her fingernails. Should she paint them herself or go out for a mani? And all she felt was Loki's gaze boring into some part of her, since she wasn't making any eye contact. Loki would be available to assist Dr. Foster in building a Midguardian BiFrost. And he also wanted to help prepare them for the danger that had fallen upon them.

The name Thanos flitted through her filter and she popped her head up when Loki named him as the mastermind behind his attack on New York. “One day, he will come, and you must be ready.” Loki's voice resonated across the room, and for some reason, she couldn't help but think that he was warning her specifically. Her eyes finally met his, and she could see a slight hint of fear reflecting through them. The horrible being that brought Loki to his knees was going to attack Earth? Darcy tuned out the inquiries from the rest of the group as she considered what he might be really trying to say.

When the flood of questions had turned to a slow trickle, Darcy finally spoke. “So, we're going to let the God of Mischief hang out in the city he destroyed with an alien invasion, televised on international news hardly two years ago?” Everyone was dead silent and just looked at her, one set of green eyes in particular. “Right. Sounds like chumming water in the media shark tank.” She stood, clapping Tony on the shoulder as she walked behind him. “I'll just go ahead and take that raise, then.” Darcy pointedly stuck her headphones back in her ears as she strutted out the door.

She didn't simply head back to her apartment. Nope. She left the building, headed to the nearest convenience store and bought a pack, lighting up before she'd even left the shop.

***

The next few weeks had seemed to become somewhat of a routine. Darcy had understandably become more tense with the presence of their new guest. She was glad she had demanded a raise; he made her job considerably more difficult-- especially since he seemed to be too proud to shape shift into someone else when he waltzed around town. To combat the added stress, she'd resorted to running even more, about ten miles a day; regular meditation; and of course, she brought back her bad little habit.

During the day when she absolutely had to roam around Stark Tower, and in the general vicinity of her Asgardian God, she would stay out of his way, but observe him through shifty eyes. The past two years had seemed to have done him well. His demeanor had lightened. He quirked his lips more often, which she supposed was the closest he'd been to smiling in a long time. His hair was longer, and tied back in a fashion that was very complimentary to his face. She would be lying if she'd said that she didn't appraise his attractiveness whenever she got a glance at him. Maybe she was constantly measuring him up to see if there would be a physical representation of a backslide in his progress? But, he'd seemed to have put weight back on; there was an almost radiance to his pale skin; and his eyes seemed to have cleared of the haunting blue of Thanos' influence.

It was like clockwork for her. She'd wake up in the morning, stretch, run, eat breakfast. Then she would tackle the mountain of media control that always seemed to respawn, regardless of how much work she'd put into it the night before. She was constantly hacking into systems, deleting emails of potentially compromising information, erasing photos, and tracing every piece of material back to its original source to completely get rid of it. In the middle of her workload, she would take a break to meditate. When her work day was done, she would ask Jarvis about the occupancy of one of the research labs, and if the coast was clear, she would sneak down and smoke under one of the chem labs' fume hoods. It reminded her of mothers waiting until their kids had gone to bed so they could smoke out the kitchen window. It made her excitedly guilty, concealing her bad habit.

She shouldn't have been surprised when someone found her.

The door to the lab opened right as she was in the middle of a drag. She coughed a couple times, startled at the intrusion and quickly outened the cigarette; blowing the smoke that was left in her lungs up the fume hood, and waving her hands around to try and disperse the smell. Dr. Banner strode in and pulled up a stool next to her.

“What's up, Doc?” she'd asked, playfully. He put his elbow on the stone table top, and put his chin in his hand, a tired smile on his face and hint of accusation in his eyes. Yep. She'd been caught in the act.

“Are you okay?” he asked after watching her for a bit.

“I could be better,” she answered truthfully.

“I've noticed. May I?” He gestured towards the pack of cigarettes hidden haphazardly behind her. Darcy shrugged, pulling one out for him, and another for herself. Of course, it made sense that Dr. Banner would definitely be one to understand the importance of calm nerves. He picked up her lighter and lit hers before his. Such a gentleman. She supposed nowadays, Pepper would be understanding as well. “You two have a history, right?” he asked after his first drag. Cutting right to the chase, then? Alright.

“It goes back a few years, yeah.”

“New Mexico?”

“You could say that.”

“But it doesn't seem like you're afraid of him. It's something else.” He began blowing perfect smoke rings and Darcy smiled. “A fling, then?” Diving right into the meat and potatoes of it. Keen eye, Dr. B. Keen eye.

She was silent a moment, idling flicking ashes in to the tray before replying. “Ah, he was so different before he was trying to take over the world.” Darcy leaned her back against the table top and blew an irritated swirl of smoke into the rest of the room. Dr. Banner chuckled in response, but left a silence linger between them for a moment; simply watching the swirling gray cloud in the air.

“The truth is, Darce—as corny and as optimistic as this may sound, some people learn a lot from their monstrous side. And just because they have demons, it doesn't make them evil.” He finished his cigarette, placing the butt in the tray. “Maybe you should at least talk to him. And if he still needs knocked down a few pegs from his pedestal, the Big Guy is always up for a rematch.” He playfully winked at her and tapped his fist against the table as he rose to his feet. Darcy laughed out loud.

“Thanks for the pep-talk, Bruce. If my sass can't bring him down to my level, I'll be sure to make a referral.”

He started backing out of the room; hands in his pockets and shuffling his converse. “You should really quit smoking. It can kill you, ya know.”

“It's because of him,” she sighed. “I have a feeling that, through one way or another, Loki will be the death of me.”

“Yes, well, he better hope not. Or his ever-inquisitive mind will become familiar with just how far his _immortality_ can stretch.” He clucked his teeth in a faraway gaze. “Anyway,” he said, looking back at her. “Goodnight, Darcy.”

***

The weather held up nice enough for Tony's birthday party to be held on the roof; a beautifully warm, early October evening. Tony had professional waitstaff milling about party goers with _hors d'oeuvres_ and drinks. There was a full bar above the Stark Tower sign, and a DJ playing the latest club beats for dancers on the helipad.

While the guest list had been kept as minimal as possible to allow Pepper to be able to enjoy herself—she didn't do as well with large crowds anymore, there were still quite a good number of people. All the Avengers were in attendance; a rather large group of former SHIELD members, like Coulson, Hill, and a bunch of people they worked with; all of Tony's security staff, like Happy; and a big group of teachers from some private high school in the southern tip of the state—they were a little weird.

Darcy was enjoying herself thoroughly, and it had seemed she'd made a couple new friends, at least. A group of the SHIELD agents working under Coulson had brought over a round of shots to their cozy section of table and chairs.. “What is it?” Darcy asked, looking a the two sets of shot glasses for each drink.

“It's called Irish Breakfast,” replied a girl named Skye. Darcy was hesitant to take the drinks, she'd already had a glass of beer earlier in the night. “It's butterscotch schnapps and Irish whiskey in the one, and then you chase it with orange juice. It tastes just like pancakes-- it's amazing!” Well, a shot wasn't technically a whole drink, right? It was just enough for one swallow... And OJ was definitely not alcoholic, so taking this shot wouldn't even make a difference to her one drink rule, right? Besides, if it tasted like pancakes... well, you just can't go wrong with that. Darcy picked up a shot glass in each hand, shouted “bottom's up!” with the other girls, and tapped the table before tipping the contents down her throat.

Oh. My. God. Pancakes. Liquid pancakes. She would need to take shots more often, she decided. It left a fire in her veins and a warmth in her belly.

She was content to sit there and enjoy the buzz, but when a chant of “Hey sista, soul sista, go sista, flow sista” blared from the speakers, Darcy found herself being pulled towards the stage with the DJ, and realized she was much more intoxicated than she had thought on the way over. The girls mounted the stage like it was their song, and they belted every note. Cheers and whistles for the girls could be heard over their sloppy French as they rolled their hips and shook their asses. Everyone was having such a good time; no one cared that none of them could quite manage to hit the range of Christina in her solo. When the final notes of the song had ended, the girls all took bows and curtsied, laughing at the spontaneity of their performance.

As a pair of hands helped her down, Darcy caught the transfixed gaze of a certain tall, dark and handsome man as he leaned against one of the railings on the edge of the helipad. Well, there went her buzz. Darcy weaved her way through the rest of the dancers and went over to the bar for a glass of water before heading to the relatively deserted upper balcony, hoping to escape the crowd and get her fix.

She finished her glass of water, and could feel the last effects of the alcohol in her system start to ebb away. She pulled a decorative case and lighter out of the pockets of her dress, and rested her forearms against the railing that faced out over the city, just a few feet away from the steps to Tony's Iron Man Extractor platform. She heard his footsteps as she lit the end of her cigarette, and took a nice, long drag as he made his way over to her.

“That's a bad habit, you know, willingly poisoning yourself,” his tone was playful. Darcy slowly blew the smoke from her mouth... okay, maybe she was being a little seductive with it.

“It helps me keep up with my mantra,” she replied.

“Which is?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Live fast, die young. Bad girls do it well.” She looked at him then, a cheeky smirk curving her deep red lips. Loki chuckled lightly, his gaze far away. Darcy took his distraction as an opportunity to once again appraise his form. Fuck, he could wear a suit.

“You've been avoiding me,” he stated, turning towards her and resting his right hand on top of the railing.

“Not necessarily avoiding you, no. Just trying to hold off on the inevitable for a while, figure you out in the process.” He rose an eyebrow at that. His gaze gravitated to her lips as she sucked in nicotine and blew out smoke. “You're confusing, you know.”

“How so?”

“You look just like him now,” she said quietly, taking another drag. He waited patiently for her to go on. “Remember the last time I saw you?” He nodded. “I told you I'd been with you in the future... you looked just as you do, now; all long haired and suave.” She smiled, finishing the last of her cigarette. “It was still a while from now, but I came here, to Stark Tower. We lived together in my apartment.” He was silent, mulling over her words, a new light in his eyes. “I wanted to be with the you of _then_.” She turned towards the city, closing her eyes as a cool breeze blew tangles into her hair and sent a chill down her exposed skin. She'd almost forgotten the deep cut in the back of her dress until the wind whirled across it. She heard him inhale sharply; he must have finally seen her tattoo.

“And what about now?” Darcy opened her eyes at his question.

“The last time you stood on this balcony, you looked at the city around you, and you wanted to bring it to it's knees. What's changed, Loki?”

“Now... all I see is you.” He stepped closer, slowly ghosting his fingers over her painted spine. He bent his head down, flooding her senses with nothing but him. “Everything else falls away when I look at you, Darcy.” He tilted her chin towards him and met her wide-eyed gaze. “You're all I want.”

Darcy thanked her heels for the added height, and stood on the tips of her toes to close the distance and delicately press her lips against his. Maybe she still had some alcohol in her system. Maybe she kissed him because she wanted to feel his mouth on hers again. She didn't know. He slowly turned her chaste kiss into one of veneration.

***

Darcy couldn't unlock her door fast enough, and it wasn't helping that Loki was distracting her. While she was scrambling through the keys on her sparkly lanyard, she could feel the coolness of Loki's body behind her, the strength of the grip on her hips, and his cool breath at her ear. “The blue of your dress truly draws out the beauty of your eyes... but, I'd imagine that you look even more breathtaking out of it.” Darcy kicked off her heels once she got through the door, and with Loki's hand in hers, she quickly led them down the dark hallway.

A full moon was shining brightly through the window, illuminating the room in a silvery glow. She turned to face Loki and watched him place his suit jacket on one of the chairs next to her vanity, anticipation rushing through her body. They stepped towards each other simultaneously. Their next kiss was fierce, filled with glorious purpose. Loki's cool tongue brushed against her bottom lip, seeking entry. She moaned when he effortlessly picked her up, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue against hers; beginning an intricate dance. As he sat on her bed, pulling her closer to him, Darcy made short work of his tie. Undoing the buttons on his shirt while they were making out was proving to be difficult. Her long nails didn't help either.

She pulled away with a frustrated huff. After a few tense minutes, she'd only managed a few of the buttons. “Can't you just magic our clothes away? I can't take this any longer. I need you.”

“Shh, darling, be patient,” he chuckled, undoing the rest of them for her. “I want to savor this moment.” He shrugged out of his shirt and Darcy caressed the body beneath her with familiarity. She could feel his manhood straining against the fabric of his pants with each lick she gave to his neck. She was soaking in anticipation. After a moment, he carefully placed her back on her feet on the floor, and turned her back to him, rising to stand as he did so. She shivered when he pushed her hair over her shoulder and kissed the base of her neck.

“You must explain these markings to me.” Another kiss brushed over her tattoo, just as his hand found the zipper hidden in the seam of her dress.

“Later,” she replied, allowing the material to fall from her body. She turned around slowly and she was sure that Loki had made a choking sound. She couldn't wear a bra with that dress, so she stood in nothing but a lacy, green thong. The color was a mere coincidence. Mostly. Her self-esteem was boiling through the roof as he was enraptured by her. When he seemed frozen in place, Darcy's patience wore out and she reached for his belt. His hands found her face and he kissed her fervently as she pushed down on his last bit of clothing. Now that he was completely naked, she pushed him towards the bed again, and he reflexively sat when the backs of his knees hit the mattress.

He wanted to pull her onto his lap, but Darcy pushed his hands away, sinking to the floorspace between his knees instead. She dragged her fingernails across the sensitive skin of his thighs and she leaned towards his eager member. She looked into his eyes and licked her lips; his pupils were blown-- no green at all, just animalistic need. When her tongue first touched the velvety tip, he let out a curse in a language she didn't understand. As she slid his glorious length into her mouth in a torturous pace, he began to whimper. His impressive girth stretched her cheeks, but she hollowed them out as best as she could, swirling her tongue around him as she moved. His hands moved from her hair to fist the sheet below him; like he was restraining himself. But, when one of Darcy's hands lifted the heavy weight of his sack, he was unable to contain the moan she elicited. With that first unhinged cry, Darcy felt a rush of warmth straight to her core, and she hummed around him.

The next second found her lying on her back, not quite sure how she got there, and Loki sliding her panties down her legs. “Don't let me down like you did last time.” Darcy whined as he slid a finger through her cleft.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When I visited you here, you pre-gamed like a champion, but didn't take me to the main event. You can't even imagine how sexually frustrated you'd left me.” Loki was peppering her skin with sensual kisses, still teasing her with his hand, swirling them around her opening. Her back arched from the bed when he turned his attention to her nipples, suckling one deliciously hard, and rubbing his thumb over the other. She keened in his ear when he started encircling her clit. “I dreamt of you constantly over the past two years. It didn't matter who I was sleeping next to; I've always wanted you.”

Her words were working him into a frenzy, she could tell. With a tender bite to her nipple, that made her cry out his name and lightly pull his hair, he moved over her. Darcy's body gave an involuntary shudder and they gasped at the feeling of skin on skin. He was delightfully refreshing. God, she'd missed this.

“Are you sure?” he questioned.

“I need you, Loki.” He closed his eyes at his name and she pulled his hands with hers above her head, and drew him down into the cradle of her thighs.

“I don't want to hurt you.” He whispered, kissing her jaw.

“Loki, I'm a modern American woman; you're hardly my first. And I'm on birth control, so we're good.” His features darkened, gears seemed to be turning, he gripped her hands a little harder—seemed a hell of a lot more possessive. Hey, at least she was being honest.

He took her chin in a firm, but gentle grip and bored his eyes into hers; if there was a hint of pupil before, there sure as fuck wasn't any now. “Once I am done erasing the memory of every human you've ever been with, we will have words, Darcy Lewis.” At that, he rolled his hips and they both cried out at the slick sensation. Not enough. It wasn't enough.

She narrowed her eyes in a challenge. “If you're not inside of me in the next two seconds, I'll be perfectly content to travel to a different you and have my needs met.”

There were so many sensations at once. Loki growled as he shoved home; Darcy choked a moan that he greedily swallowed. He stretched her past capacity and it was the most pleasurable sensation mixed with a little pain... she'd never even imagined... She ran her hand through his hair, brushing it away from their faces. She looked into his eyes and pulled his mouth back against hers. His pace was brutal. It was delicious. She was struggling to keep up. She could feel the waves of an orgasm ready to sweep her out to oblivion. And as she crested over the edge, her eyes were losing focus to be replaced with the cosmos... that's when she realized that Loki really was a god.

Lost in bliss, she had fleeting thoughts. She was pretty sure she'd stopped breathing. Hearing had escaped her. She could feel that her mouth was open, but she had no idea if she was making any noise. She could see him moving over her, his facial expression in nothing short of a state of euphoria. Loki was a god. Truly a divine being. Why did she ever waste her time and body with anyone else? No human could compare to this. She was ruined. Darcy was ruined for anyone but him.

When all sensation flooded back to her, she was so disoriented. What was up? What was down? She had no idea. All she knew was the pleasure exploding throughout her body; every neuron was firing, every nerve was sparking. Maybe she was having multiple orgasms? She had no idea. With the stars swirling in her eyes, she felt very insignificant; like when you could see the curve of the Earth watching the livestream of Felix Baumgarner's space jump... She was nothing on the grand scale of things. And at that depth of thought, she felt very tired; the post-coital lethargy consuming her mortal body.

“Darcy,” she heard a distant voice. “Breathe!” Who was that? “Come now, Darcy. Breathe!” Their voice sounded so familiar...

Air was forced into her mouth; she could feel her body's relief. Coughing a little, and coming back to her senses, Loki was looking down at her a smirk on his face, laughing.

“I must say, in my few thousand years of experience with women, _that_ was a first.”

Darcy took a deep breath in; oxygen felt so good. “Pompous god,” she teased. “Was it at least good for you?” she asked, immediately regretting it; her face heated up. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to hear an honest answer.

“Oh yes... but it clearly wasn't as good for me as it was for you.” _Ehehehe,_ he chuckled and she felt her heart palpitate.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing... That orgasm only induced an existential crisis. Seriously? If I would have known that sex with you would have me questioning the value of my life--” Loki silenced her with a kiss.

“Well then, Darcy, I guess we'll just have to keep this up until you understand how invaluable to me you are.”

With their feral needs slaked, he set a more languid pace, enjoying every bit of her body, and looking deeply into her eyes. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear; at least she was sure he was, because it was in a language she'd never heard before. When she was getting close, his words seemed encouraging, and the sultry phonemes on his tongue sent her over the edge. He spoke her name in praise. She'd had three more separate orgasms, and thankfully no more syncopal episodes, before he'd finished. She could feel the muscles in his back tense up along with the rest of his body as he gave a final thrust; his eyes closed in pure bliss. She came again just from the sensation of his hot cum jetting against her overstimulated and sensitive inner walls.

Nothing she'd ever experienced before came close to this. This was entirely a breed of it's own. This was physically enjoying someone on a deeply personal level. This was giving and receiving intense pleasure from someone else. This was beautiful.  _This was making love._

***

They explored each other a number of different ways before Darcy could truly take no more. She didn't even want to think of how sore she was going to be tomorrow. Thank god it was the weekend. She was going to demand breakfast in bed. And a massage. And a nice long bath. With him. And he should definitely carry her to and fro. 

She was comfortably lying on his chest, eyes drifting closed every now and again at the soothing sensation of his fingers stroking her back. She was content to sleep right there on top of him. He was snuggly, and didn't seem to mind her weight. His hand slid up to between her shoulder blades.

“You must explain these to me. It is not an Asgardian fashion.” Darcy explained that the tattoo at the top, a broken hour-glass with sand dripping from the crack in the bottom, represented her ability to time travel. And the two dermal piercings below it that followed her spine represented her parents, who were lost to her.

“That's beautiful” he complimented, kissing the top of her head and relaxing back into a comfortable silence. “Did it hurt?”

“Eh, the tattoo wasn't too bad, but the dermals were a bitch.” She smiled at his laugh, and placed a delicate kiss to the cool skin of his chest. He entwined their fingers and draped a possessive arm around her. After more silent content and an exchange of yawns, they fell asleep.

***

Loki woke up sometime during mid morning, feeling the comforting warmth of Darcy on his chest. During the night, she'd slid down to rest in the crook of his arm, a leg between his, and a hand resting over his heart. He sensed she was already awake, and kept up the appearance that he was still resting.

Her fingernails were twirling soothing patterns on his chest. He felt himself start to smile and drift back into sleep, but he quickly schooled his features when he heard her voice. “Finally.” She said. “I missed you.” Loki was listening intently now. He hoped that she couldn't feel his heart pounding in his chest. “I love you,” he heard, barely a whisper. Something happened inside of him; his stomach felt funny, a fluttering sensation that was slightly ticklish. Was this what humans referred to as “butterflies?”

He didn't want to spoil this deeply personal moment. And Loki experienced a flood of very confusing and complex emotions, some of which he'd never felt before. He placidly sat in silence, trying to sort himself out. After a little while, Darcy disentangled from him and stepped from the bed. Through his eyelashes, he watched her don the button up shirt he'd worn last night, the length coming just below the swell of her bottom. She rolled up the sleeves and looked comfortable and absolutely inviting. With the morning sun lighting her hair and bathing her in a golden glow, she looked happy. Loki certainly enjoyed the view of watching her stretch, testing the soreness of her muscles. He looked forward to repenting for every ache he caused.

She walked into the kitchen, and he heard her root through the cupboard. He would talk to her when she returned. Tell her that she was right; he realized that their time lines were different. Tell her that he was a fool, and he was ready to take responsibility for himself. Tell her that there was no other creature in all the worlds like her. Tell her that he, too, missed her. Tell her—the butterflies flapped restlessly in his stomach—tell her that he loved her as well. 

He smiled brightly. She was finally here. With him. They'd moved through his turbulent past. They could finally start getting to know each other the proper way. No more fear... just tenderness. He was eager to watch her grow in to the beautiful woman he'd already met. Eager to claim her as his wife... as his queen. Eager to just be by her side and experience the future ahead.

His train of thought was interrupted at the sound of breaking glass. He sat up and listened for what surely would be a slew of curses, but was met with nothing. Just silence.

“Darcy?” he called.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I would definitely pass out if I were being delivered unto orgasmal bliss by Loki. I was actually laughing while writing this... at work. It was great. I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, side note-- I haven't yet watched Agents of Shield (really, please don't hate me! it's on my list!) But I wanted to incorporate some people in the surrounding MCU to add more vitality to my little thing. I don't know if by the end of this current season, Skye's character is cannon... If it's not, I sincerely apologize!!! Just... try to ignore it? ^^;


	9. Cafuné

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another super long delay! This chapter just was hard to write for muse reasons. But once I got going again, it was like I was on a roll! I know that this is a pretty short chapter considering my last few updates, but that's because the outline of this chapter-- if I published everything would be another 11k worded behemoth! And I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer than you already have.  
> \------------
> 
> Recommeded Listening: Song for Bob- Jesse James Soundtrack

_Cafuné_

_Brazilian Portuguese. Running your fingers through your lover's hair._

* * *

 

To an extent, Loki had been expecting it. After all, Darcy had been popping in and out of his life for a long time now. However, this time was different. He wasn’t used to being alongside present-day Darcy, and since this was the first time she’d traveled away from him as opposed to traveling _to_ him, he wasn’t certain of the nuances of traveling. For example, how long was she typically gone? Minutes? Days? Weeks? And whom all amongst her friends and coworkers knew about her ability? Loki picked up the shards of the broken mug from the floor.

“Where’s Darcy?” Jane asked when he entered the lab by himself the following Monday.

“She had a family emergency and left early yesterday morning,” Loki replied, the lie sliding effortlessly from his tongue. Jane eyed him suspiciously from behind her “World's Best Astrophysicist” coffee mug she'd received from Darcy.

“Hmm… She usually lets me know when something comes up.” Loki just shrugged.

Days passed and he tried his best to keep up the charade of nonchalance. But at the beginning of the second week of her disappearance, he found he couldn't take the idle waiting any longer. So, Loki traveled to Jotunheim to continue his work. He was using the Casket of Ancient Winters to rebuild the realm and make peace with the people. The labor was distracting enough that he was able to keep his mind from worrying too much.

Another week passed, and he had yet no word. Undoubtedly, he began to feel panic-stricken. He sent doubles to keep vigil across both Midgard and Asgard—one stayed behind to watch over Stark Tower and also the willow tree near her family's land in Vermont; the other roamed the royal halls of Asgard. He could see the worry on Jane's face, and Loki wondered if she knew...

Loki had taken it upon himself to speak with each of the Jotuns individually to hear their concerns and address their needs. He was working so hard to build a rapport with his people, hopefully his efforts would pay off. It was during one of these conversations that he saw one of his father's ravens. At the end of the very long day, he traveled to Asgard.

***

Loki had been making his way towards the throne room, long strides echoing down the marble corridor. His steps slowed as he approached a heavy wooden door on the side. He extended his right foot, in an attempt to walk on by, but found that he simply could not, and turned instead towards the wooden frame.

The turn of the latch resonated throughout the stillness of the chamber. Dust and the subtle notes of an achingly familiar perfume tickled his nose as he stepped inside; calling flames to the tips of candles with a wave of his hand and lighting the space.

In the center was his mother's loom; lonely, in its state of unuse. He felt a pain in his heart as he tracing his fingers across the worn wood, remembering the lessons in weaving his mother had given him as a young boy; that fate, too, was much like a tapestry; woven into the fabric of time.

He looked at the many bookshelves around him, delicately running his hands over the spines, reflecting on the way his mother's voice sounded as she read their passages to him. As he turned the corner towards of one set of shelves, something rushed over him, an uneasiness... something unfamiliar.

 _“I suppose you can come out now, Lady Darcy.”_ The soft tones of his mother's voice ghosted into his mind. This was no memory of his.

His magic flicked to life inside of him. A new power?

 _“How do you know my name?”_ flitted Darcy's voice, a nervousness in her tone.

 _“I have been weaving your fate for quite some time, now. I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard.”_ He closed his eyes and listened for the scene to unfold.

His mother's last words rang in his ears... He thought back to his first request of his scrying orb, all those years ago. A smile ghosted his lips at the thought of his childish curiosity, and the folly of trying to shape his own fate. He wondered about the scene he'd witnessed in the glass... and the tapestry that matched it. Where had it gone? He couldn't exactly place when his mother had finished it...

He stood in the solitude of the silence, thinking back on the called memory. Darcy had mentioned before that she had indeed spent considerable time with his mother, he was just surprised to see their fates had been so intertwined even when he was very much still a child.

And this new ability he'd discovered? Clairsentience? What were its limits? He heard the voices now, but could he possibly learn to call forward full scenes as they played out in another time?

“My Lord,” the call came from the entryway. Loki opened his eyes and inclined his head back towards the guard. “The Allfather requests an audience.”

***

The Allfather was not alone at the throne. Thor, in all his golden haired glory stood next to him, a smile on his face at Loki's approach.

“Brother!” the happiness in his voice echoed off the gilded halls. Loki would be lying if it didn't make the corners of his mouth turn up just a bit. Thor met him down the walkway just to embrace him, his huge arms encircling him and then some. “It is good to see you, again!” They turned and continued their approach towards their father; a look of contentment upon Odin's withered visage, and a sparkle in his eye.

“Yes, well,” Loki coughed. “What's all the fuss about?” He straightened in front of Odin, hands clasped firmly behind his back.

“I have news,” Thor began; he must have called the assembly. The sloppy smile that he'd been sporting earlier, had soured into one of hesitation. “Father,” he began, “I wish to take the Lady Jane as my wife...I came to ask for your blessing.”

There was a pregnant pause as the Allfather sat in the silence that swallowed the room. “In this woman, I see an intensity.” Thor bowed his head, ready for rejection. “She seeks knowledge, not power. She is brave. She is compassionate. I foresee that she will advance Midgard; bringing it up to par with the rest of the Nine, and be an invaluable bridge between our worlds.” At this, Odin looked to Loki, and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Father,” Loki interjected, the word tasted foreign on his tongue. “I would like to renounce my claim to the throne of Asgard, and return the right of succession to my brother.”

“If she is truly the one to have won your heart, she will be a great queen.”

Loki had felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

***

Thor had joined the Warriors Three to celebrate his news with heavy drink and debauchery; while Loki, as always, took the more solitary route. His thoughts found him at the end of the Rainbow Bridge, looking out over the universe next to the keeper of the Bifrost. The great warrior had somewhat come around, despite their troubled past. Loki was starving for any kind of information. If there was one person that could see Darcy, it would be the Asgardian next to him.

“There is no being that escapes my gaze. With the exception of Asgard, which is to my back, I see all.” Loki remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. “Your Midgardian is peculiar,” he started, his golden eyes turning to meet Loki. “I have watched her for many years. I am curious how she does not seem tethered by time... And yet, there are only two beings who have completely disappeared from my view: Thor's Jane, and your Darcy.” He wasn't surprised that she'd piqued his interest. There certainly was no one else like her in all the realms.

“For how long is she usually gone?” Loki asked desperately. With as many times as Heimdall had seen her disappear, surely he knew the usual amount of time she was gone.

“A few days, at most. This time is markedly long.”

At the news, Loki let out a long breath and nodded to the guard. He turned to leave, when a hand caught his shoulder in a hard grip. “Loki,” his voice was filled with urgency, and all it took was a look at the guard's wide eyes before he disappeared.

***

Blood. There was so much blood. A bright red pool lay in the middle of the community kitchen in Stark Tower. There were little bloody footprints as well. The metallic scent burned his nostrils and sent him on high alert.

“Darcy!” Loki yelled out, his panic-stricken voice echoing throughout the floor.

“Miss Lewis was taken to Bellevue hospital approximately ten minutes ago.” Jarvis pierced through the thoughts racing through his mind. _She's alright._ He reassured himself. _She doesn't die like this._ Moments later found him rushing past security and being escorted to another section of the medical facility. The Avengers had assembled in what appeared to be a waiting area.

Jane was crying softly, legs tucked under herself as she sat in a chair. Miss Potts and Stark were sitting side by side. The blonde woman was a vision of poise save for the way she worried her lip between her teeth, and the way she anxiously gripped Anthony's hand. Stark had his eyes closed, his only tell was the incessant bouncing of his knee. Clint was leaning against a wall, arms crossed while the Widow paced in front of him. There was a barely contained storm in her features. The Captain and his winged friend sat in their chairs with straight backs and blank faces; their military training coming to the forefront. Lastly, Bruce held his head in his hands, repeating the same phrase with each deep inhale and exhale he drew from his body.

“What happened?” Only a few—Stark, Banner, The Widow, and Jane—turned to meet his gaze. And that's when he saw it. _Fear_. Every hair stood on end.

“Loki,” a cautious but familiar voice drifted through the hall as Thor rounded the corner. The Allfather must have used his own magic to bypass the lag time of Bifrost travel. Thor knelt in front of Jane, consoling her.

“What happened?” Loki demanded.

“She was stabbed in the abdomen,” Jane forced the words out before sobbing into Thor's shoulder.

 _What?_ His heart stopped. _No. Not yet! It was too soon!_ A million thoughts were racing through his mind. The horribly familiar empty ringing flooded his ears. _They hadn't even started their lives together. If he would have known--_

“--Hey!” A sharp voice snapped him out of the downward spiral that was this thoughts. Natasha was standing in front of him, her head was tilted back with a commanding posture, and her green eyes locked on his. “The sword pierced part of her liver, and the lower lobe of her right lung.”

“ _Sword?”_ Loki asked, his swimming mind calming.

“Yeah. Sword. You know? Really long knife?” Stark stood and walked towards them, pulling out his phone. “Jarvis,” he addressed the A.I. “Status update.” Loki released a long breath. Darcy was not to be felled by a sword. He remembered well the small dagger, its intricate hilt splintering out of her stomach.

“It appears that the weapon was forged during the Viking Age. A Pagan inscription runs along the blade.” The members of the room tensed, everyone seeming to know what was to come next. The disembodied voice replied in an ancient language, one Loki hadn't heard in an age. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the air became charged with electricity. Steve's friend Sam whispered the word _spooky_ before shivering. Loki turned to walk away, to push his feet into the repetition of pacing, ignoring the spread of confusion around the room. Anything to keep himself from losing control.

Thor got up and walked over to him, an incredulous but stern look on his face. “Brother,” he whispered quietly. Loki held his gaze as he looked into the familiar expression of blood lust. The Crown Prince of Asgard was not the innocent imbecile the humans believed him to be; his hand reached reflexively for the hilt of Mjölnir.

“My ancient Norse is a little rusty, Jar. Translation please.” Stark waved his hand in a circle.

“'Now I give you to Odin.'” Thor supplied the answer first. It was the bitter irony that gave rise to a blazing anger. Loki's hands clenched into fists as his boots continued to wear into the floor. His anger held his tongue. It was infuriating that the lowly pests who had so wounded his Darcy were long gone by now. His opportunity for retribution had come and gone in the centuries passed. There was nothing more disappointing than the inability to exact revenge. He couldn't stand before those petulant men who worshiped his family, watch their awe at his divine presence fade to one of sheer terror as he made sure they suffered. Thor would surely rip them limb from limb, his brutality lied in the physical experience of pain. But Loki was much more acquainted with psychological torture. He did not survive his time in the abyss, and later with Thanos, and not acquire some new techniques. No. He would delve into the deepest reserves of their minds and exploit their fears. He would pull each psyche apart—

\--“Look at me.” The widow ordered, with a firm grip on his arm. Loki's startled reaction had the rest of the Avengers on their feet. “She's in surgery. There's a good chance she'll make it. The doctor said that the blade had missed any major arteries.”

“ _Surgery?_ ” Loki took a step back, appalled. “Darcy's fate rests in that barbaric excuse of Midgardian healing?” He set his jaw, looking incredulously around the room. “No. She needs to be in Asgard. Take me to her, now.”

“You think after spending one night with her you have a say in what treatment she receives? She hardly knows you!” Loki could feel his patience running thin. A smirk crept across his lips, but he remained silent as Anthony driveled on. “This isn't some simple human you can bend to your will; she could _die.”_

 _“Tony,”_ Ms. Potts warned, letting an uncomfortable silence infect the air.

“I have known Darcy for over a _thousand_ years.” Conviction and venom dripped in every lilt of his voice. Anthony narrowed his eyes.

“I don't know how they teach arithmetic on Asgard, but Darcy's only _twenty-four._ ”

“She's a time traveler,” he defended hotly.

A silence of a different nature spread across the room. Loki stood tall, improving his posture and enjoyed watching the smugness slip off of Anthony's face.

“You.” The quiet sound came from Jane. His and the others' heads turned to her as she slowly stood and made her way towards him. “It's been you this whole time.” He could see tears well anew in her eyes, the wet tracks streaking her face. Loki simply nodded. The rest of the room looked astounded at the petite astrophysicist.

“Brother?” Thor questioned, resuming his place behind his woman.

“Darcy first visited me in my chambers on Asgard when I was merely a thousand years old.” His insides roiled at the memory.

“Wait a minute,” Dr. Banner began. “Darcy told me she first met you in Puente Antiguo.” He crossed his arms as he joined the group.

“That's correct.”

“Huh.” Tony rocked back on his heels. “Would you look at that,” he continued with a faraway gaze, stroking his goatee.

“Excuse me?” A man in Midgardian surgical attire rounded the corner. The gravity of this realm seemed to increase as he turned towards the newcomer. The man looked tired, but the sympathy and hope pouring from his eyes was a fresh breath of air compared the the sterility of Asgardian healers. “The surgery went well; we were able to close the laceration to her lung and repair her liver. We've got her in the PACU right now and we'll keep her sedated for the rest of the night and transfer her to the ICU later this morning.” That was a much better prognosis than what most of the other humans had expected. The release of tension was palpable; Loki breathed a sigh of relief. “Now, I know that you all have been waiting patiently and are very anxious to see her, but at this time we can only allow two visitors to sit with her before she's moved to a recovery suite.” Loki immediately began walking forward, Jane came up next to him. Jane gave her word to the rest of the Avengers that she would keep them updated with any news, and recommended that everyone else go home and try to get some sleep. A chorus of “good nights” echoed down the hallway as they followed the doctor. Each step closer to Darcy weighed on Loki. He wanted to sprint to her side, but a sickening nervousness restrained his pace.

She looked to be so near to death, his breath hitched in his throat and he froze for just a moment, analyzing everything he could. The first thing he noticed was her mortal pallor. Her skin, what he could see of it between the paper cap covering her signature, dark curls and the thin gown covering her small frame, held a sickly yellow hue; a result from damage to her liver, no doubt. A rhythmic hiss came from a machine that was connected to a clear tube placed between her lips. Darcy's chest rose and fell with each ventilation. Loki's throat constricted at the thought that she could not even breathe on her own. Colored wires laced across her chest and corresponded to the rudimentary machine that was monitoring the activity of her heart. A cuff on her right bicep hummed as it inflated. And more tubes connected to veins in her hands and arms; blood and other fluids were pumped in to keep her vitals stable, while medications for pain and sedation kept her asleep. A few other things hung from the frame of the bed; two bags and a clear box. One was surely placed to drain her bladder, the other containers were slowly filling with blood. The fight to keep someone alive was an invasive process in the Midgardian realm.

The God of Mischief felt uneasy, watching the red liquid flow into and drain from her body. Was it so long ago that the same vital life force seeped from her and haunted a bewildered Asgardian prince? Would it be so long until it happened again?

Jane went to her side and wrapped Darcy's hand in her own; a red light was clipped to one of her fingers. “Oh, Darce.” The woman drew the appendage up to her lips, catching her tears with her own sleeve. “It's okay. We're here.”

Loki crossed to the opposite side of the bed, taking a seat across from Jane and brought Darcy's other hand into his. He tried not to think about the unusual chill in her skin, or the disturbing way her body was relaxed—her limp hand alarmed him, but he tried to push the fear down into the abyss inside of him. Instead, he gently pulled the cap away and delicately brushed her hair out of her face. She looked more like her self—more alive in her unresponsive state.

His heart wrenched at the sight of her. Her tresses still held the organized curls she'd worn for Anthony's party all those weeks ago; only slightly mussed after their night of passion. It was as if she'd only stepped away for but a moment—to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As if weeks hadn't passed. As if she'd only just confessed her love for him. As if she'd just left his embrace.

Loki gently massaged the back of her hand with his thumb, and was thankful that his vigil was not likely to last long. What was a few hours compared to thousands of years?

***

But Darcy didn't wake up.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me and for your patience! Two weeks until Age of Ultron! I'm hoping to see Loki in the after-credits scene!


End file.
